Walking the Wire
by elevenghosts
Summary: Set after Homecoming and before Infinity War. After an incident in New York Peter has to keep a low profile, resulting in him moving to the Avenger's facility.
1. Chapter 1

Hearing was the first sense that came back.

Soft beeping noises mixed with a very strange, lengthy sound which he was sure he'd never heard before in his entire life.

Peter tried to concentrate on it. Where did it come from? It was everywhere, it seemed. Or was it just in his head? God, thinking was exhausting. Why must he have thoughts? Useless. He didn't need thoughts. Having thoughts was overrated, he decided.

Peter felt like he was floating, his mind lost in the vast darkness surrounding him. This was nice. He felt very light. Like little dots of dust that are visible in a room lit by sunlight. A good feeling. Why couldn't he always feel like that?

Wait. The strange sound was back. It went on for a few seconds before it stopped abruptly, only to be heard again after a couple of seconds. Every time it stopped Peter hoped that it would stop forever, but every time he was disappointed. Sound. No sound. Sound. No sound. He tried to count the seconds between the sounds but soon lost track. He needed to concentrate. But on what exactly? Yes, right. The sound. Why was there this strange sound?

Peter wanted to laugh, but all that came out was something that resembled a sigh. Wait? Was that him breathing? Why did his breathing sound like he was a hoarse dragon? That was not a good thing? Or was it? Dragons were kind of cool. The dragons in _Game of Thrones_ absolutely were. And Peter liked the Dragon in _The Hobbit_ , but he was too tired to remember its name. Which was not a good sign either. Normally, he did not forget the names of the dragons he liked.

No, his breathing sounding like that was not a good thing, Peter decided the next moment. He couldn't quite remember what his breathing normally sounded like.

"No, you are not a dragon. Although I do agree with you. Dragons are way cooler than your average spider."

What.

Wait. This was an insult. He should feel insulted, right?

"And _dragons_ can fly", the voice went on. "Unlike you."

Again. Insult. How do you react to insults again? Peter was not quite sure about that, but it did not really matter, because if he wanted to react to something he had to actually _do_ something and that meant that he would have to come out of this wonderful, wonderful darkness. Also, he thought, the voice would disappear when he ignored it long enough. That was a good plan. Peter emptied his mind again, longing for the sweet numbness he'd felt before when he was alone in the darkness and not accompanied by a voice. A voice which wanted to tell him he couldn't be a dragon, despite his desire to be one. He was sure that he did not need that kind of negativity in his mind.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Enough talk about dragons. Time to wake up."

Peter's eyes shot open, something he regretted doing immediately afterwards. White light blinded him, forcing him to close his eyes again. The light was gone, but the sharp pain in his head stayed. Damn. He knew that leaving the darkness meant problems.

"T-turn off th- lights", he managed to say. Huh. This was his voice? Funny. Maybe he _was_ a dragon after all.

"The lights are off. We turned them off the first time you told us to. Never turned them on again afterwards. Everyone coming in here carries a little flashlight now. Which, if you ask me, looks hilarious."

"I-I've gone to h-heaven", Peter managed to say and felt awkward the moment the words had left his mouth.

"No, you are not", the voice told him a bit worried.

"I'm in hell?!"

"Guess again."

Peter heard a quiet laugh. The voice was sounding relieved now, almost pleased with the conversation they were having. It made Peter feel a bit more secure, although he couldn't tell why. He opened his eyes and successfully managed to fight against the urge to close them again as the light flooded his head. Wow, he would give everything he had for a pair of sunglasses now.

Everything was white. The bed. The walls. The floor. White was supposed to be a soothing colour. White was the colour Peter pictured heaven to be in. However, Peter did not exactly feel the way he wanted to feel in heaven when he had to go there someday. He felt like crap. His head was aching. His body felt lifeless. Plus, he really hoped that the light in heaven wouldn't hurt his eyes.

"Hospital", Peter stated, looking around.

"Pretty close."

Peter heard a soft clicking nose and turned his head. Tony was sitting a bit away from him, drinking from a glass he was holding. When he noticed Peter's eyes on him the man let the glass sink, watching the ice cubes that were in it.

"How long have I been out?"

" _Not as long as I had feared and definitely longer than I had hoped",_ Tony thought grimly and put the glass on the small table next to him. The relief he'd felt when Peter had opened his eyes ebbed away at the confused look on the kid's face. The past couple of days he had waited for the boy to wake up had felt like an eternity, although everybody in this building with a medical degree had assured him that it was only a matter of time.

"Well, definitely not a hundred years, I can tell you that." Tony let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in the chair he was occupying.

"So, I'm not going to be a Disney princess after all", Peter joked and tried to laugh. Regret hit him as he felt a burning feeling inside his chest. Did his lungs hurt? Your lungs were not supposed to hurt when you laugh. Peter knew that. His lungs never hurt when he'd laughed. So why on earth-

"You know when we talked about the grey area you could operate in? When I dropped you off? Well", the man sighed angrily, "that was not grey. Not even dark grey. That was pitch black."

Oh. He had a feeling that this conversation was not going to end well.

"So, you might want to tell me what you had in mind the other day."

"W-what?", asked Peter. Why should he be the one to answer questions? He had absolutely no clue why he was in a hospital bed, but not in a real hospital. The last thing he remembered was-. What was the last thing he remembered?

"You have no idea what happened, do you?" Tony stated, eying Peter suspiciously. For a moment, there was this strange expression on his face. Peter did not like it. He had a feeling that he did something he was not really supposed to do and he got caught. Numerous questions flooded his head, but not even one of them came over his lips. What happened? Why was he here? Why was _Tony_ here with him? Did May know he was here? Why was he feeling like someone used him as a punching bag?

Peter tried to focus. The vulture incident. Being offered to become an Avenger. May finding out that he was Spider-Man. And then? Nothing. Black.

Tony picked up his phone and started fiddling with it. The next second something white appeared in the middle of the room and Peter had to close his eyes again. Damn, light hurt. He waited until the throbbing pain in his head went away and reopened his eyes.

The quality of the video Tony showed him was very crappy. Peter had to look away two times because apparently the person was not very good at holding their phone still when filming something and it made Peter dizzy. He saw a big, grey thing jumping through the air, trying to damage the bridge, which was full of cars and people, with some kind of orange laser. He saw himself, swinging onto said bridge, shooting webs, falling, hitting the ground, getting up again. Over and over again. It seemed like the camera person was running backwards, as everything was jumping up and down, which made it difficult to understand what was going on. Then, out of the blue, the bridge collapsed.

"Whoa", Peter croaked.

"Yes. Whoa", Tony said. He sounded tired and Peter suddenly felt a bit bad. The video had stopped. "Don't worry. Somehow you managed to keep him distracted long enough for all the people on that bridge to leave the danger zone in time. Nobody got hurt. Well, besides _you_ , obviously."

He gestured towards Peter chest, which, he discovered then, was covered in white bandages. Huh. This was new. But it sort of explained the pain he'd felt earlier when he had tried to laugh. All in all, his chest felt like there was a massive rock placed on top of it that made breathing and talking significantly difficult.

The minutes passed with none of them speaking. Peter tried to organize his thoughts. He wanted to ask questions but seemed not able to form them in his head. God, thinking was difficult these days. Tony had his eyes closed. As if he was waiting for something to happen which he did not look forward to. His hand slowly made its way to the glass on the table, picking it up.

"What exactly", began Peter, "happened after the bridge collapsed?"

There. He asked. One simple question. Why had it taken so long to form it, then? Seven words. That was not much.

Tony took a sip. "It collapsed on top of you and the maniac."

"And?"

"And you both were hurt. He is currently awaiting his trial", Tony told him. He talked in a very calm manner and for a moment Peter was amazed by the fact how surprisingly unflustered he seemed to be. The last time he'd pulled a stunt like that his suit got taken away after a rooftop-discussion loaded with emotions. But then again, he had no idea where his suit was at the moment.

Peter sighed and ignored the sharp pain that slowly formed in his chest. He missed the good old days when breathing was something not accompanied by that. "When can I go home?", he asked Tony, turning his head slightly and nearly laughed again when he discovered that this movement didn't bring him pain.

"Look", Tony said, running a hand through his hair. "You can't really leave yet."

"Because of my injuries?"

"Yes. Because of your injuries and… because of other reasons."

The strange look on Iron Man's face appeared again. He looked like he was ready to fling himself out of the window. Without his suit.

"What other reasons?"

"Currently, the situation for people with superhuman abilities is, let's put it this way, a little bit… delicate. Tricky."

"Tricky", Peter echoed.

It took him a moment to grasp where this might be going. Wait. It did not really make sense to him. Ignoring his headache, Peter said: "But I was Spider-Man before! And nobody cared-"

"Before this bridge incident, the only major thing you did in the eyes of the government was setting a part of a beach on fire due to a plane crash. It took me – us – only one day to fix this. You could go there and you would not have the slightest idea that something has happened the night before. But now…"

He took another sip.

"Now the government has taken interest in you. And this is not that good."

"O-okay. And… that means…that…?"

Tony stared at him. God, he looked so tired, Peter thought. Like he had aged a decade since they were talking. "That means that it would be the best if you would lay low for a while."

Peter wanted to object, but could not form the statement in his mind. This was not the best day for him to have this conversation. Lay low? Not be Spider-Man? For how long? He was not sure if he could do that. Or if he _wanted_ to.

"But-", he began but was cut off.

"Look, I know that this is not something you want, considering what happened the last time I told you to stay home for a while and do nothing. But, and this is important now-", Tony said, leaning forward in his chair, "you don't really have a choice. There are people out there who have an eye on you and who are only waiting for you to make a mistake."

He let his words sink in for a moment before adding: "Peter, this situation is a little bit more serious than you think it is."

Peter's head was spinning. This was not good, was it? This was, in fact, really bad. And he could not even remember what the hell happened on the bridge! Peter was beginning to feel uneasy.

"Did they ask you about me?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell them something?"

"Hell no. But when we finally found you we had to take the mask off your face so you would not have problems breathing. And while I'm pretty sure nobody has seen _anything_ ", Tony emphasized the last word after becoming aware of Peter's horrified expression, "there is still a tiny possibility that someone might-"

"So-", Peter interrupted him hoarsely. Speaking was getting more difficult now. "What you are suggesting is-"

"What I am suggesting is you move in here. Temporarily. Until the government lets you off the hook. Until you are no longer on the news and the world finally loses interest in you again."

Boom.

"May-"

"Has been informed. Does not like the situation – not a bit – but she … accepts it. I made sure she is protected", Tony added after seeing the serious expression on Peter's face. He hoped that he'd never had to tell the kid about the conversation he'd had with his aunt while he was sleeping. " _You can call it sleeping, but then you are lying to yourself and you know that",_ Tony thought, trying to get the image of May screaming at him at the top of her lungs out of his head. He couldn't remember how long he had talked with the woman and how many hours he'd needed to convince her that _this_ was for Peter's best. And for her best as well. What he recalled, however, was him collapsing on his couch the minute he got home, feeling physically and emotionally drained.

"For how long?"

Tony did not answer. Instead, he was handing him a phone. "I'm going to have the bridge rebuilt. You can talk to your aunt as often as you like. Her number is on speed dial. Just don't lose the phone. You can go to the city whenever you want to. Happy will drive you. But, kid, do yourself a favour and don't do anything stupid."

Tony talked for a few more minutes but Peter found it more and more difficult to understand the words that were leaving billionaire's mouth. They did not make sense to him anymore. Or he was just too tired for that. He'd grasped the main idea. That had to be enough for now, he decided and closed his eyes for a bit. Then he remembered something and could not keep himself from laughing softly.

Smaug. The name of the dragon in _The Hobbit_ was Smaug.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter had spotted them the minute the thieves tried to break into the shop. Two men, dressed completely in black, faces hidden by black masks. They stood in front of the shop window and appeared to be arguing, quiet enough for everyone around them, but loud enough for Peter's enhanced hearing. Only two idiots without a real plan who wanted to break into one of the shops. Peter smiled. This was going to be easy.

Shit.

Right. No, it was not.

"You are Spider-Man, but you can't act as Spider-Man right now. Remember?", Peter muttered to himself, glaring at the two masked figures as they tried to shatter the shop window with a brick. The glass, however, seemed to withstand their many tries, no matter how forceful the brick was thrown. Bulletproof glass, apparently. Amateurs.

" _My luck_ ", Peter thought grimly. He couldn't catch those idiots himself, so he had to call the police. He didn't like that, not at all. It was like surrendering. Letting the adults handle the difficult situations for him. Peter stood and watched as a police car turned up and the masked thieves were arrested by two policemen in a matter of minutes. "I would have webbed them up in only a few seconds", he thought while turning around and heading for Happy's car, which was parked a few streets away. Before he got his superhuman powers he would have done the exact same thing. Why was calling the police so difficult for him now?

He didn't talk much on the way back to the facility and only answered Happy's questions because he did not want to appear impolite. He would have preferred to drive in silence, though, but apparently, he was too quiet even for Happy's liking (which he'd never have deemed possible) and soon found himself to be in a situation quite similar to an interrogation.

"Kid, what happened when you bought those doughnuts? I mean, I don't want to complain, but before you got out of the car and disappeared like you haven't had a meal in days you would not shut up even when I told you to", Happy began, glancing back to Peter on the backseat.

"Nothing happened", Peter mumbled looking out of the window.

"Okay then. You might want to- No, you idiot, you don't have to break here. C'mon, hit the gas…".

Usually, Peter enjoyed spending time with Happy, even when he was the only one doing the talking part and with Happy ignoring him after ten or fifteen minutes. Under different circumstances, he would have been thrilled at the man trying to have a conversation with him. But today was different.

 _Not true_ , the voice inside Peter's head reminded him and damn it was right. During the last weeks, the number of days he found himself unwilling to communicate with anybody else had increased. _"Not that there are so many people to talk to_ ", Peter thought and winced at his own aggressive negativity. Huh. Where did that come from? It was true that most of the time he was on his own, but there were always people showing up and looking after him and he could always telephone aunt May or Ned. He'd even called Michelle once – a more than awkward experience, though not a negative one. She had rather been amused than annoyed.

Still, he missed the atmosphere which had been present in the small flat in Queens. Rooms filled with unnecessary stuff both Peter and May had not touched or thought about in years, but would never think of throwing it away. Empty takeaway boxes in the kitchen next to something unrecognizable on the stove May had attempted to cook before finally surrendering. Pictures of Peter as a toddler and a little kid. The Avenger's facility was great and Peter felt guilty whenever he longed for his old bedroom, but it wasn't quite the same. Tony had made sure that his new room was stuffed with enough things to keep Peter busy for the next ten years. Exceptionally expensive things Peter had never dreamed to own in his wildest dreams. Every now and then Tony would take him to his workshop to show him something he was working on or making suggestions for his Spider-Man suit. The latter, however, had stopped soon after Tony once noticed Peter's excited facial expression being replaced with a vacant one when he mentioned the suit.

" _You have nothing to be unthankful for. You have somewhere to sleep. You have food. There is even a screening room. And a pool_ ", Peter thought. Aunt May would be safe. Ned would be safe. And all that for the little price of trying to stay out of the spotlight for some time. Many other people would give up everything to live in a house like that - in the same house as the famous Tony Stark, mind you. And still. The facility was not-. Yes, not what?

 _Home. The word you are looking for is home_. "Oh, shut up", Peter muttered.

"You said something, kid?"

"No."

When Peter climbed out of the car he acknowledging the soothing calmness surrounding the facility. No disturbing sounds, no cars, no planes, no unnecessary lights. A contrast to the city, where a day without sounds was an impossibility.

"Honey, I'm home", Peter mumbled to himself as he entered his room a few moments later and snickered at the thought of the dinosaur. Maybe he'd watch an episode or two of Dinosaurs later. Not that he had homework to do. No, he definitely did not miss that part of going to school. Although he caught himself reading his school books or random essays on the internet more often nowadays. Peter thought that to be a very adult-like move. He even considered learning another language, maybe Russian, which could come in handy someday.

Picking some of the school books up from his bed, Peter remembered the discussion he'd had with Tony while he'd still been at the med bay.

" _But what are we going to tell the principal? I mean, you can't just- just decide to not go to school suddenly, can you? That's not possible?"_

" _Everything's possible. We'll handle that, you'll see."_

And Tony had handled it. Called the principal, called May, did some explaining and some lying and after twenty minutes of showing off his businessman-side, everything was arranged. Peter still was amazed and bewildered how easy it had been.

He let the books he was holding fall on his desk, where they landed right next to a few school supplies and a T-Shirt he'd carelessly thrown onto the desk earlier that day. After quickly scanning his surroundings Peter made a mental note to clean his room tomorrow. When he'd moved in everything was so neat and tidy and now it looked like there had been an explosion.

The room was bigger than Peter's and May's old bedrooms together. In fact, everything seemed to be bigger, more modern or more expensive. A spacious bed with the red covers - the same shade of red as his Spider-Man suit, Peter had noticed that right at the beginning. An expensive looking computer and various tools on a big desk in another corner. Books. Films. The Spider-Man emblem on one of the grey walls. Although the things like the computer and the tools were Tony's doing, Peter was sure that Pepper was responsible for the decorative details. He couldn't quite picture the man buying bed sheets or lamps.

His stomach growled. "We just had doughnuts", Peter said and then frowned. Great, now he was starting to talk with his own stomach. Was this the first sign of going nuts?

The kitchen was empty. No leftover food in the fridge. Vegetables, milk, cheese, some meat. Meaning he had to cook something for himself.

" _Oh, come on. Grow up, Peter",_ he thought. Months ago, he wanted to be seen as an adult so badly. Hell, he had no idea how many times the phrase "I'm not a kid!" had left his mouth back then. Now, living alone was also an adult thing. Cooking for yourself. Entertaining yourself. If he was adult enough to fight the bad guys, then he had to face those aspects of being an adult as well. No big thing.

 _But it kind of is a big thing, isn't it?_

Peter sighed, drowning the voice in silence.

" _May I suggest sandwiches. All ingredients can be found in the fridge and in the cupboard_ ", said F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s soothing voice.

"Yes. Good idea. Sandwiches. Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.", Peter appreciated the AI's recommendation. Okay, having an AI in your house was a definite plus. That was something the flat in Queens was missing, he decided, willing to point out the facility's positive sides to himself. He made a few sandwiches and ate them absent-mindedly while reading a scientific article from some journal on his phone, before switching to a video of some guys doing parkour on the rooftops of Shanghai.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?", Peter asked, "is anybody home now?"

" _No person you have personal contact with is currently present at the facility, Mr. Parker."_

"Oh. Okay. Do you know when Mr. Stark will be home?", Peter tried again despite having no hope of a real answer. When he'd moved from the med bay to his bedroom he had bombarded F.R.I.D.A.Y. with questions about the facility in general, the different rooms, the whereabouts of the other Avengers and so on. He'd also asked the AI if Happy and Tony were home and, if yes, what they were doing daily, but had always received frustrating answers in return. They were almost always busy. Not that he blamed them – both men had jobs to do. Tony was busy with the Accords, Ross, and the other Avengers and when he was at the building he was nearly always down in his workshop. And Happy sometimes took him to the city to buy doughnuts or coffee or something else Peter had found a lame excuse for buying so that the man had to drive him. Lately, however, Peter's questions to F.R.I.D.A.Y. had ceased.

" _No, Mr. Parker."_

"Alright. Thank you."

He got up and went to his room again, vague plans for the evening in his mind. "So, what are we going to do? Hmm?", Peter hummed and let himself fall onto his bed. He let F.R.I.D.A.Y. play some music for him and closed his eyes. Peter did not intend to fall asleep so soon but found himself unable to open his eyes again.

He had no idea how long he'd been lying on his bed like this when a woman's voice startled him awake.

Wait, a woman's voice? What did a woman in his bedroom at the Avenger's facility?

Ah. Right.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.

He always forgot about the AI.

 _Well, it's not the person you want to hear when you get up in the morning, isn't it_? This voice inside his head was getting annoying.

"Not now, F.R.I.D.A.Y.", Peter murmured into his pillow and tried his best to ignore the world. He had no school, there was nobody home. So why in god's name did he have to get up so early? He could sleep in as long as he wanted to – which was a thing every teenager dreamed of. He could eat breakfast a little later. No big thing. Plus, this bed was just so damn cosy! When somebody would make him choose one place to spend the rest of his life at, it would be this bed.

Peter drifted away again and surely would have been asleep again soon when a sudden noise sent him back to reality. A knock. On his door. A very aggressive and consistent knock on his bedroom door. Peter was pretty sure that F.R.I.D.A.Y. did not knock on doors.

He groaned and weighed his options. He could ignore the sound and go back to sleep. But chances were that the person knocking on his door would have stopped knocking by now if they did not care if he got up or not. And for somebody who simply wanted him to be awake, this was an absurd action.

Happy. Did he forget something? Had Happy mentioned something about driving to the city and he forgot about it? Was he late? He wasn't quite sure, his brain was all messed up and he did not want to make Happy angry, so Peter stood up and walked over to the bedroom door.

"Sorry, I'm- ", Peter began as he opened the door but was silenced. Happy was nowhere to be seen, but instead, Peter faced a very impatient looking Tony Stark.

"So, we're not responding to our wake-up calls now?" Tony said, one eyebrow up. "Oh, sorry. Did I disturb your beauty sleep?"

"-up".

Peter felt his face turn red. "N-no. I'm sorry. I was just tired and didn't want t-to…", he began to stutter, running one hand through his messy hair, then stopped dead when it hit him. "You're here."

Tony looked confused at that. "Of course. Not sending a hologram to get you out of your room."

"No. Yes. No. Right", Peter mumbled. Shit, he was behaving like a complete idiot. Again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably and glanced over his shoulder into the room. Chaos. Better to leave the room and go downstairs or something before Tony could look at it.

"Soooo", Peter said. "You. Are. Here. Why are you here?"

Mornings were not his time of the day.

"Because I live here", Tony answered, raising an eyebrow at Peter. "You should have noticed that tiny detail by now. Remember?"

"S-sorry. I'm not a morning person. At all."

"It's nearly midday", Tony said slowly, looking at Peter hesitantly. He eyed the teenager for a moment, causing Peter to look down at his clothes himself. Hoodie and sweatpants. Normal stay-at-home clothes. Would he pass the test with these clothes?

He never got an answer to that. Tony turned around and headed down the corridor, leaving a rather confused Peter behind. "Workshop. Ten minutes."

Peter needed sixteen minutes. When he got into the elevator he had an internal debate whether it would be terribly time-consuming to head to the kitchen and grab a coffee and after asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the time he decided against it. But in the end, it did not matter, because as soon as he entered the workshop Tony gestured to a white cup on a little desk in the corner.

"There. Drink. We need to put some coffee into you. Otherwise this is probably going to be a long day."

Peter nodded and obeyed. A cup of coffee sounded awesome. Normally, he needed several cups of black coffee before he could feel the desired effect, but he did not want to leave the room so soon. Hell, he just got here. That would look like he wanted to run away.

 _Maybe you want to run away..._

Tony was sitting at the huge desk with his eyes fixed on a little silvery thing that lay in front of him. He seemed so focused on what he was doing and Peter did not want to disturb him. So he stayed quiet and looked around, scanning every inch of the room. God, this was so cool. He noticed every single tool, every piece of paper with notes on them. And was F.R.I.D.A.Y. playing Rolling Stones in the background?

"So", Tony said suddenly, eyes still on the thing he was working on. "Happy told me you're not talking to him anymore."

"W-what? No! No, no. Why did he say that? When did he say that?"

Tony stopped what he was doing and held something up for Peter to see. "Mobile phone. Fantastic invention. Useful when you want to contact other people when you can't talk to them in person. Try it sometimes."

He dropped the phone again and turned his focus back to the silver thing. Peter had no idea what to say, so he just stayed quiet, the cup of coffee in his hands, and waited for the older man to talk again. Every now and then he took a sip and frowned when he discovered that the cup was finally empty. Shit. He could not leave now, could he? And what are you supposed to do with your hands in such a situation?

"What are you doing the whole day?", Tony asked him nonchalantly, not looking up. God, Peter wished that he would also have something to work on right now. It would keep his fingers busy and it would give him an excellent excuse to do something while looking like a fool.

"Uhm. You know. The usual. Reading books. Articles. Working on the web shooters. Normal stuff like that. You now", Peter said, gesticulating. He waited for Tony to continue, but when that did not happen he placed the cup back on the little desk and strolled over to one of the chairs at the desk and took a seat. Better.

In his mind Tony could still hear snippets from his conversation with Happy he'd had yesterday.

"… _. kid's quiet nowadays…."_

"… _don't know what he's up to…"_

"… _needs hobbies…"_

"… _doughnuts…"_

Tony had demanded frequent updates on how Peter was doing when the kid had moved in because the billionaire would have bet everything he owned on Peter getting into trouble relatively soon. Taking the Spider-Man suit to go on patrol, covering half of the building in his webs, crashing some of the equipment. Tony had considered a lot of things and after a few weeks, during which not a single incident had occurred, he was surprised. And Happy's phone left him quite puzzled. Usually, Happy's updates contained bits of information, which at first did not seem to be that important. Peter usually babbled about his favourite films, bands, articles he's read recently, topics he and Ned talked about. But the kid's sudden mood changes were strange. Even considering the fact that Peter was a teenager, him missing a chance to talk to Happy was an exception rather than the norm.

"I was just… a little bit tired. That's all", Peter told him, breaking the silence unexpectedly and pulling Tony out of his thoughts. His fingers were fiddling with one of the screwdrivers, his eyes were glued on some of the blueprints on the desk. The first time Tony had taken Peter to his workshop he had feared that the kid might suffer a heart attack from his excitement. He was never standing still, always turning, always talking. After twenty minutes, Tony had forced him to sit down and take a few breaths. Today, there was a different boy sitting in front of him. A calm and thoughtful one. What a contrast.

Tony was still silent, eying the kid in front of him suspiciously. Peter sighed, slightly annoyed now.

"I swear", he said. "I'm not up to anything. I don't have any evil plans. I'm going to apologize to Happy the next time I see him. Which will be on Thursday."

"Today is Thursday. And you're going to see him again on Saturday."

Oh.

Thursday. Not Tuesday.

Peter resisted the urge to grab his phone and look at the calendar. Why did he think it was Tuesday? Crap. Without school, it was not so easy to keep track on the days of the week. He let things slip. Not good. "Whoops."

"So, what are you working on?", Peter changed the subject, now focusing on the silvery thing. It kind of looked like the snitch from Harry Potter, just without the little wings. He listened as Tony explained, absorbing the information like a sponge. This here was not bad, Peter decided. In fact, this workshop thing was pretty good. Such moments were worth the time he spent at the facility on his own and actually it was not that different from the afternoons and nights he had spent alone when he was living with May, when she was working. After all, it was not that bad.

 **So, the new chapter is up. Tell me what you think. ;) The next chapter will probably include more characters and more action maybe. I hope you like it so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

Initially, Tony had planned to take Peter down to his workshop to work on his suit or the web shooters to keep the kid from brooding. He had looked forward to that, although he had to play it cool in front of Rhodey and Pepper, the first calling it babysitting, the latter calling it sweet. But when he woke up, his head was killing him.

Headaches and Peter were two things that should not be combined at all costs. Tony somehow liked the boy, but most of the time Peter spent time with him he behaved like a child on a sugar high. Bouncing off the walls, clinging to the ceiling, babbling about a science project he's read about and always – _always_ – talking to Tony with such enthusiasm. It was getting on his nerves, but at the same time, Tony feared it would be replaced with tranquillity and maturity soon enough. It was like the kid did n ot need air to live. Tony could swear that they once had a conversation that lasted for twenty minutes and Peter had not taken a single breath _once_.

So, Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let Peter sleep in and after he would wake up, to inform him of the rescheduled plan.

His expectations of a quiet day, however, were not fulfilled. As he was sitting at the desk in his workshop, with a head full of unfocused thoughts and his hand scribbling something down on a sheet of paper, his phone started vibrating.

"Nope", Tony mumbled, determined to ignore whoever decided to disturb him. "Not now. Not today. F.R.I.D.A.Y., ignore the call."

The vibrating ended and Tony sighed.

He had tried to work on one of his blasters, but he was too unfocused and managed to burn his hand not only once, but twice. Therefore, this plan was rejected and replaced by another one, which involved only theoretical work on improvements of the parachute of the Spider-Man suit.

After half an hour, however, the phone started vibrating again. Tony sighed. Why couldn't he just have one day without anybody disturbing him? He frowned at the name on the display and answered the call reluctantly.

Ross. With every minute they talked, Tony's urge to reach through his phone and strangle the man grew exponentially. They talked about the usual. The Accords. Former Avengers. Accords. Spider-Man. Accords. Wakanda. Accords. An enhanced individual in Boston. Accords. God, how Tony hated the man. He needed to hire assistants who would answer Ross' phone calls for him, especially on days like these, when his head felt like a bomb was imploding constantly inside.

"Yes, do you know what? I forgot about that one thing I needed to do today. Important thing. Mustn't be delayed. Sorry 'bout that. Bye", Tony said and ended the phone call. Thank god it was over.

He needed coffee.

Much coffee.

A mental image of Pepper telling him that drinking coffee while having a severe headache was not a genius move at all popped up in his mind. "Yes, I know, but I need coffee now. Plus, drinking coffee before twelve o'clock is acceptable", Tony mumbled, massaging his temples.

" _It's half past two in the afternoon_ ", F.R.I.D.A.Y. said

Huh. He really needed to check the time every occasionally, when he was in his workshop.

"Yes, thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y., didn't need that information."

He got up and exited the workshop, slowly wandering to the kitchen area. He expected to find the kitchen empty, given that it was nearly 3 p.m. and there were not so many people living at the compound currently. However, he hadn't taken Peter's chaotic and non-existent daily rhythms into account.

The kid seemed to constantly work against establishing a daily routine. One time, after Tony came back from a trip to Europe, he found Peter in the screening room as he was busy watching the whole Godfather trilogy in just one night. Another time, when he was sitting in the kitchen with Rhodey at five p.m., Peter entered the room with his pyjamas on, eager to make himself some breakfast. Without school, it seemed, Peter had lost track of time and Tony would be worried, if Peter would not surprise him constantly with new information on science projects and the like. The kid read the medical and science journals that were scattered around in various rooms in the facility as well as the books he carried from the little library to his room so quickly, Tony had to buy new ones on a weekly basis.

When he entered the kitchen, nobody noticed him at first. Peter and Vision were standing next to the oven, apparently cooking something. It did not smell bad, but both hat a very serious look on their faces.

"It might increase the quality of the food when more spices are added", Vision suggested.

"Yes. Might work. But I'm not so sure about the colour. It should be slightly red. Or orange, at least. But it isn't. The last time I ate it at a restaurant with my aunt, it didn't look anything like this."

"May I suggest increasing the heat?"

"Uh, yeah. Let's try that", Peter said. "I mean, we can't really ruin it any more than we already have, can we?"

Tony watched the pair with amusement. What they were trying to cook he couldn't tell, but they seemed to have fun. Like a pair of mad scientists in a lab. Pinky and the Brain. Only that he was sure the two had no plans for world domination. At least Peter had left his room and Vision had someone to talk to.

"Maybe the taste is better than its appearance", Vision suggested, eying the pot on the oven.

"We could taste it. Well, we might die trying. But at least we should try", Peter answered, although he sounded not too thrilled at the idea of eating what they had created.

"You know that there are doctors in the facility. In case that this turns out to be poisonous", Tony said and both superheroes looked up, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

Peter only waved to him from where the two of them were standing, while Vision greeted him politely and offered him some food, which Tony declined.

"I don't think we should let somebody else try it before we had a chance to see if eating it is deadly or not", Peter joked. "That could still count as murder."

Tony buried his face in his hands, hiding a soft smile. He somehow missed having the rooms full of people and the fact that you could never truly be alone because there was _always_ someone there. Joking around. A thought crossed his mind. Clint and his family. Maybe he should send some toys for the kids. Or money. Both. He knew that sending gifts was not what they wanted and it would not replace their father, but still. Better than doing nothing. Tony decided. He would ask Pepper what kinds of things little girls like Lila would be happy to have.

Tony heard someone approaching the table he was sitting at, stopping abruptly, but not saying a word. He sighed, let his hands fall to his sides dramatically and looked up.

"Uh. I was thinking about heading to the city", Peter began nervously, playing with an empty cup in his hands.

Tony nodded. "Happy can drive you."

"Actually… I had … something else in mind", Peter said slowly. "I promise that I will- "

"No."

"But- "

"No. Not negotiable. The situation hasn't changed. Too dangerous."

Peter nodded and tried to look like he did not care, but failed miserably. He was not dumb and after a very long discussion Tony had with him after the kid had healed enough to move to his own room, Tony knew that he understood that it would be beyond dangerous to show his masked face in public.

"I know that. It's just… I miss it", the boy said. He had a serious look on his face as if he was in physical pain. "I need to go on patrol. It's- "

"No", Tony interrupted him, massaging his palms. Why did he leave his bedroom today? He could have stayed in bed. "I know it's bugging you, I know you don't like the situation. But that's how it is. You can't change it. Maybe later. But not now. You must understand that. Heaven, why do I always sound like _him_ when I say something like that."

He sighed. When he'd been around Peter's age and Howard had told him to _not do_ a certain thing, he sure as hell would have waited until his father had left the room and then go and do the stupid thing anyway. Just for fun. Peter, however, was not like him. He was a good kid. But still, sitting around and doing nothing would drive him crazy.

"Look, I'll think of something. Just… not now. Okay?", he offered and hoped that would be enough. "You could work on your web shooters. Just don't touch anything else", Tony added and saw Peter's facial expression change. A smile. A nod. He was better at this than expected, Tony thought. Good.

When he found himself in his bed again a few hours later, he had no idea how he managed to survive the day. He was exhausted and his head was still killing himself, so he did not even bother to take off his clothes. God, he just wanted to sleep.

He had tried to call Pepper but gave up after the second call she did not answer. Somehow, Tony managed to doze off. He dreamed something about wrapping presents in spider-themed wrapping paper before the scene changed quickly and he was not at home anymore. He was flying above New York. He could see the Avengers tower and wanted to fly towards it, but he did not have his suit. He was not flying, he realized in a panic as the skyscrapers around him grew bigger and bigger, he was falling.

A piercing noise woke him up before he could hit the ground. Frantically, Tony sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Was that F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s alarm? He turned his head towards the windows. It was still dark outside. Tony needed longer than he would like to admit until he had finally figured out what had woken him up.

His phone. His goddamn phone.

God, how late was it? Who cared to call him in the middle of the night? What on earth could be that important? Tony cursed under his breath as he reached for his phone. Then he saw the number on the display and knew that it did not matter what time it was. This conversation would have been gruesome anyway.

" _Good morning",_ Fury greeted as Tony answered the phone. He probably was the only person worldwide who managed to sound kind of cheerful and threatening at the same time. Tony imaged him sitting in a black chair, petting a white cat and snickered. It was too early for having a serious conversation.

"Fury", he mumbled, sitting up straight in his bed. He took a quick glance at his watch and frowned. Why did everybody feel the need to disturb his sleep? "What brings me the joy of this consultation at this ungodly hour?"

" _You know why I'm calling you."_

"It's a bit early for Christmas wishes, so– "

" _Stark!"_

Tony fell quiet for a moment, Fury's voice ringing in his ears. It was 2 a.m. and he only wanted to sleep, for god's sake. Not that he had been able to sleep much since the Siberia-incident. Nightmares, Sleepless nights. Standing on his balcony in the middle of the night because suddenly he could not bear to be indoors any longer. Those were not unfamiliar things.

" _You are_ _at each other's throats like rabid dogs. That needs to stop."_

 _At first, Tony was impressed at how calm and collected Fury sounded. Then he took in the words and groaned. He did not want to have this conversation now. He would have preferred to avoid this topic if possible. Fury, obviously, was not willing to do him that favour._

 _"Yes, we're not really- "_

 _"You were a team once and you could become a team again. The world needs every single one of you._ _Everyone_ _",_ Fury emphasized the word and sighed when he got the estimated response after a few seconds.

"He killed my parents."

" _I know."_

"My mom-"

" _I know. But – and you now that – HYDRA was responsible for that."_

Tony noticed Fury's voice was a tiny bit softer now and was not sure if he liked it or not. Even if the man would have shouted at him, it would not change a thing.

"Steve chose his side."

" _This is not the time for the blame game. There can't be fucking sides. The world's still turning and it needs the Avengers. As a team."_

"There is no imminent threat- "

" _No, there is no threat right now. But, believe it or not, nobody will ask your allowance before they'll start whatever maniacal shit they want to do. You have to keep an eye on the future",_ Fury said.

Tony restrained the urge to laugh. Not the right time for jokes and laughing. He wanted to answer Fury, wanted to argue and to discuss, but eventually stayed quiet. He could hear Fury's breathing over the phone, could feel the tension, but he could not formulate an answer. Because he did not have any answers.

" _Stark."_

"Yes", Tony sighed, "still here."

" _You need to unite. You know that."_

Did he?

" _You need to sit down and fucking talk."_

"Yes, well, this could prove to be a tiny little bit difficult, because currently we are not even residing on the same continent. Dinner dates are not really a thing nowadays!"

" _Then you need to figure something out."_

On that note, the phone call ended and Tony was left alone with his own thoughts again. The silence he had appreciated earlier was now his enemy. He thought about Ross. He thought about the Accords. He thought about Peter's stunt with the plane and how everything could have taken a turn for the worse if only the plane had crashed in the middle of the city. He thought about the atrocities the Vulture could have committed with the weapons and the material on the plane if he'd managed to steal them. He thought about Rhodey. He thought about the other Avengers. About Peter. Himself.

 _How do you control personified chaos?_

Suddenly he felt the urge to talk to someone. To talk, discuss, or argue, whatever. He could always talk to Rhodey, sure, but he knew his friend's opinion already. Also, it was way too early to phone him. Vision's answers tended to be very philosophical and Tony's head ached at the mere thought of the conversation. An image of the phone Steve had sent him popped up in his mind.

" _No, we're not going to do that. Too early, way too early_ ", Tony thought, pushing the thought away immediately.

He stood up, ran a hand through his already messy hair, unsure what to do. He could not go back to sleep, and his head made it impossible for him to go and distract himself by building or repairing something. Before he knew, he found himself moving, his mind absent. Mindlessly he grabbed a glass and a bottle on his way to the family room, a vague plan on sitting on the couch and listening to music forming in his mind. However, it never came to that.

When he entered the room, he saw Peter standing near one of the windows, unmoving, looking out into the depths of the wood this side of the facility was facing. How could someone known for his bounciness stand so still? " _With his abilities, he would have been a great assassin_ ", Tony thought for a moment and mentally kicked himself for that. He did not want to think what would have happened to Peter when he would not have been the first one to find out his secret. When instead, he would have been found by someone else first. Ross. Hydra.

Apparently, Peter was not aware of him being in the room.

"Why are you still awake?", Tony asked him, slightly amused when Peter turned around a tad too fast.

"Mr. Stark. Sorry, did I wake you?"

Tony shook his head. He walked towards the couch and sat down with a sigh. This was going to be a sleepless night for both of them, apparently. "You did not answer the question."

"Uh, I just wanted to watch a film. Not sure which one, though. Probably _Shining_. Any recommendations?", Peter said and looked out of the window again. His fingers were fumbling with his sleeves, which made him appear even younger than he was. But he'd grown over the past few weeks, Tony noticed suddenly. His hair was slightly longer. The boy needed new clothes and a haircut, he decided and made a mental note to take care of that. The chances were high that May had been the one to manage such things. No, scratch that. Of course, his aunt had been the one to buy him clothes and send him to get a haircut.

"So, no recommendations."

Right. It was necessary to respond to questions in a conversation. Gosh, he was tired.

"Go for whatever you like, kid", Tony told him and Peter nodded absently. They remained silent for a few minutes, which was greatly appreciated by Tony. His headache was worse now and all he wanted was to go back to bed and fall asleep, but he knew that it wasn't that easy. It never was.

"What about you?", Peter asked him, looking over his shoulder. "Were you working on something?"

Again, he just shook his head, hoping that this reaction would be enough, but Peter was not determined to let him off the hook yet. The boy raised an eyebrow, staring at him from across the room.

"I was woken by a phone call."

Peter nodded. Tony could see that the boy was curious, but did not dare to ask any more questions. Did he look that tired? Unapproachable? Or was Peter just polite enough not to ask any more question?

"Nick Fury", Tony heard him say. Did Peter even new that name? The kid had never met him. But Peter just nodded knowingly. The boy was neither dumb nor untalented, Tony reminded himself. He did not have access to all his files, but he sure was intelligent enough to find the information he was looking for or to coax F.R.I.D.A.Y into granting him access to some of his files. After all, Peter had access to every room here.

"You don't seem to be happy that he phoned you", Peter stated matter-of-factly.

" _Understatement of the century_ ", Tony thought and really hoped that his bitterness wouldn't show on his face.

"Not really."

"Why?"

"Because," Tony starts, voice quiet and heavy, unsure if he should discuss the matter any further, "he wants the Avengers to reunite. And neither do I know how I'm going to accomplish that, nor do I know if I'm ready for that yet."

Tony took a sip and stared his glass hollowly. There. He said it. They had lost what they'd had before and he didn't know what he could do to repair it. Or better, _if_ he could do something. Because right now everything seemed to be so irreparable, in ruins and lost forever. The Avengers had been a team of superheroes standing united against the evil in the world. And now, they were… non-existent. Well, no. There were Iron Man, Vision and Rhodey. And Peter, in a way, although he was not an official member. And still…

"I don't know what to do", Tony murmured slightly, more to himself than to the boy who was now sitting next to him. When did the kid sit down? Seriously, sometimes he moved so fast Tony had problems to catch up.

"Why don't you know if you want the other Avengers to come back yet? Why can't they come back?", Peter asked calmly after some time. "Because of the Accords?"

"Yes. And no. It's…complicated."

He emptied his glass and refilled it. Tony could feel Peter's eyes on him but did not turn around. Tony took another sip, not sure how to continue. How do you explain all that to a boy so young? A boy who did not ask for any of this. Who got dragged into this mess by a spider-bite. God, the world was not fair.

"Surely you can help- "

"Peter", Tony interrupted him. His headache aside, he simply did not want to talk about that subject any longer, did not want to explain it all to Peter. He wouldn't understand.

" _Or he would understand, and you are only afraid of how he's going to react?",_ Tony thought and grimaced. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his messy hair. "You don't know the full story.", he added.

"Then tell me."

"Oh, give me a break! You are too young and too- "

Too what?

Inexperienced? Untrained? Vulnerable? The kid did more good at his young age than Tony had done when he was a teenager. He was smart. He was kind. And he always wanted to do the right thing. "You simply would not understand", Tony ended and sighed heavily. The pain in his head had increased, to some extent due to drinks he had had, and he longed for his bed. His thoughts were spinning around in his head. A part of him just wanted to stand up and go somewhere else.

"Then explain it to me. Give me a chance to understand it. I just… I want to help", Peter said and Tony had to smile at that. Yes, he knew. Peter always wanted to help. Everyone. Every time. He wanted to save the whole world and Tony dreaded the moment Peter would learn that he would not be able to save everyone, no matter how hard he tried.

What finally led to him trying to explain the mess the Avengers currently called their lives to a teenager he couldn't recall the next day. Probably the alcohol he'd consumed, mixed with his desire to talk to someone and his tendency for making decisions he did not think through. He could not remember everything he'd said and when he dragged himself down to the kitchen he half hoped and half feared to find Peter there.

Tony had no idea how he would have started the conversation. _Well, how did you sleep after I told you about how your childhood idols all behaved like prehistoric idiots and tried to beat the shit out of each other?_ Tony grimaced at this thought and tried to clear his mind before he entered the room.

His fear, however, seemed to be unnecessary. Peter was not in the kitchen. Probably he was still sleeping. Tony did not know when the two of them had decided to go to bed, but he was sure that there had not been many hours left of the night. He made coffee and waited for a few minutes before he decided to work on his blasters.

After two and a half cups of coffee, the kid came down to his workshop, dressed in one of his favourite hoodies, a nonchalant expression on his face and his earphones in. He waved to him before he sat down and began tinkering with something Tony could not see, his head sometimes bobbing to whatever music he was listening to. His body always in motion. Like water.

Tony took that as a good sign.

Maybe he could work it out, he thought as he watched Peter writing something down. He was good at repairing machines, building things. Tony took a deep, shaky breath. He'd made his decision.

 **This chapter took me a little bit longer to write, I'm sorry. This time it's from Tony's POV. Again, tell me what you think. Hope you all like it.**


	4. Chapter 4

It would be a gigantic understatement to describe the whole thing as weird or awkward. To Peter, it felt utterly unreal. An emotional roller-coaster.

A few weeks after their conversation in the middle of the night, most of the former Avengers had returned to the facility. Peter was sitting on the roof of the building when they arrived and watched them exit the Quinjet. The Black Widow appeared out of nowhere a few days later, which took everyone by surprise.

Peter had no idea what Tony did to accomplish all that. He did not want to ask him about it anymore, to be honest, because whenever Peter mentioned the Accords or Ross nowadays, Tony's face turned into a grimace. Therefore, Peter decided it would be the best for him to accept the current situation, no matter how strange it felt and how torn he was between his admiration of the other Avengers and his loyalty towards Tony.

Because one the one hand there was Captain America and Peter had idolized him as long as he could remember. But he had always wanted to be like Iron Man. And then there were also the things Tony had told him about and although Peter was absolutely sure Tony had tried his best not to make the whole thing sound too bad, he was still worried.

The Accords. Ross. Siberia. HYDRA. Tony's parents. The Winter Soldier.

How was he supposed to react to that mess? What was he supposed to do or to say? Moreover, how would Tony deal with it? Or Captain America? He had no experience in that field. He had never fought with Ned, not really. Yes, there had been occasional disagreements about rather simple and unimportant things, but after a few hours, everything had been back to normal. Peter was not even sure if Tony and Captain America had spoken with each other yet.

A few days prior, Tony had caught him brooding in the library and had told him to stop worrying about everything, for his own sake.

" _Don't worry. It's a test run."_

" _And what if it doesn't work out?"_

Tony had not answered his question. He had assured him that there were no sides anymore and told him again to stop freaking out because of the whole thing. However, he had locked the doors to the workshop the days before and after Day X, as they called the day of the reunion, so Peter was sure that he was nervous too.

At least they were not the only ones who had no idea how to handle the new situation. He had seen the man who had been introduced to him as Sam Wilson aka Falcon (whom he had named Fairy Wings after their fight in Germany, which Tony had found hilarious) running laps outside and hurrying to his room as soon as he got back inside, only nodding to people when he met them on his way. Steve Rogers was still unshaved. It had taken Peter a few days to get used to a bearded Captain America, but since nobody talked about it and not even Tony made little jokes or funny remarks, he had dropped the matter. He had spotted Hawkeye a few times when he was sitting on the roof of the building, but the man usually disappeared quickly, leaving Peter to wonder where he'd gone.

Peter had tried to get Tony to socialize a bit, even though he had no idea if the others wanted to socialize too. There usually were hardly many people in the same room at the same time anyway.

" _Don't you want to go upstairs? Watch a film or something? Nobody really wants to talk when watching films."_

" _Too soon."_

Too soon. It was too soon for everything. Too soon for watching films, too soon for cooking or eating meals together, too soon for playing games. Only Vision and Wanda seemed to be comfortable in each other's company. Peter could hear Wanda laughing every now and then when she was talking to Vision, and he was glad that at least the two of them were enjoying themselves.

Once, Peter woke up in the middle of the night and he was sure he could hear people yelling, but before he could even think about getting out of bed to investigate, the yelling stopped. The next day, the whole facility seemed to be empty. Nobody was in the many rooms used for entertainment, nobody was in the kitchen, nobody used the training rooms.

A few days later Peter had his obligatory nightmare of the week, which made him wake up at three a.m., and which left him unable to go back to sleep, even though he could not remember much of it. Sand in his lungs. Fire all around him. Buildings collapsing. Toomes' face only inches away from his own, whispering 'Spider-Man' with a hoarse, dark voice repeatedly. He got up and tried to kill time with some tinkering and brainstorming until it was late enough that it would be considered a decent time for somebody to get coffee and breakfast. The first time Tony had seen him sitting in the kitchen after a nightmare he had made a face as if seeing a ghost at such a time would be a more believable thing.

"Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, toasted bread", Peter sang to himself as he marched towards the kitchen. "And orange juice? Why not go for a little bit more extravagance today? God, I sound stupid."

May would have smiled at that. He was no morning person at all and apparently the stuff he managed to say out loud in the morning could be compared a drunken person's babbling. Ned used to tease him when sleepovers were still a thing when they were a bit younger.

Peter could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Whether they were talking or arguing, he could not tell. He had to think about the conversation in the library again he'd had with Tony.

" _Just be polite. Or not. If you don't want to say anything, then don't. It doesn't matter."_

" _I kicked him. And I stole his shield."_

" _Does not matter anymore."_

Driven by his need for coffee, Peter finally decided to ignore the voices. "The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout", he sang quietly and opened the door. Steve and Sam were sitting at the table, each with a big mug in front of them. They looked more than surprised to see him and Peter got the feeling that he just interrupted an important conversation and for a second debated with himself if it would be better to just turn around and leave without a word. But he was tired as hell and he needed that coffee. And something to eat. To be honest, he would have walked straight into a cave full of lions with his hands cuffed behind his back to get himself some coffee.

"Hey there", he greeted as casually as possible and hoped he did not sound like a little kid that just walked in on his parents arguing.

"Good morning", Steve greeted politely, while Sam looked rather annoyed.

"Have you been eavesdropping?"

Sam's accusing tone made Peter spin around. The man did not seem as relaxed as Steve about his sudden appearance.

"Why would I do that?", Peter asked, puzzled. He shook his head slightly. "Plus, if you don't want people to spy on you, why do you meet in the kitchen? At this time. When everybody is craving coffee. Makes no sense. Also, I wouldn't do that in such an…ordinary manner. I would probably hide on the ceiling or something."

"You talk too much", Sam scoffed. "Why do so many people feel the desire to _talk_ after they just got up."

"Sam", Steve said.

"Well, yeah, joke's on you, Flappy Bird. Because I already woke up a few hours ago", Peter murmured and crossed the kitchen. "Early bird and all that."

He got himself a cup of coffee and ditched his previous breakfast plans when he spotted the doughnuts. Taking two, he left the room again, planning on going back to his room. Maybe he could play a few video games. Tony had bought him a few games recently, although Peter had tried his best to convince him that he was happy with the stuff that was already in his room. He could also ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. where Vision was, so he could go and play a game of chess with him. He was not as good as Vision, but then again _nobody_ was better than him.

In the end, he decided to finish the physics book he was reading. There were only a few pages left and if he could finish it, he could find himself something else to read. He only had to find it, which could prove to be a tiny bit more difficult than expected. His room was messy. There was not a single thing on the floor, but the tables, the chair, his bed and the shelves were covered with clothes, books, magazines, headphones, small pieces of metal, tools and other stuff. May would have told him to tidy up days ago. Suddenly Peter was glad only Vision came to his room every now and then.

"Where are you, where are you, where are you, where are you", Peter muttered while lifting item after item, not bothering with putting the things back where they belonged. He took a sip of coffee. "Where are you, where are you, ouch!"

He felt a sharp pain in his index finger and drew his hand back from the pile of clothes on the chair. Tiny drops of blood were visible on the tip of his finger.

"What the…"

Peter carefully lifted the shirts up and found a small piece of metal with sharp edges he had been looking for a few days ago. "There you are", he said, picking it up and throwing it into a bin. "You're not the thing I wanted to find right now."

After twenty minutes of searching his room for it, talking either to himself or to the various things he found instead of the book, he gave up. It was not there. Or at least he thought so.

Book: 1. Peter: 0.

Frustrated he thought about giving up, calling Happy and going to visit Ned and MJ. And May. He could wait in May's or Ned's apartment and watch their surprised faces when they came home only to find him there. They would be happy, he would be happy. Everybody would win.

 _Nope, not right._

Peter sighed and sat down, his back leaning against his bed. That would be reckless. Stupid. He didn't really want to endanger them. He had no idea if he was being watched by the government guys when Happy took him back to Queens for the day, when he was running around in the city with his head in the clouds, or when he went to visit May. Tony said he would know if there was somebody after him, but they couldn't risk it. And especially not for something so little as a few hours of fun and laughter. Everybody he got in direct contact with could become a target. He was responsible for their well-being and if that meant he could not see them or talk to them on a daily basis then that was the price he had to pay for that.

God, he really needed to find that stupid book!

Maybe he left it in the living room. Yesterday he had been reading there before Vision appeared out of nowhere and startled him a bit. "Sounds plausible. Sounds like me", Peter thought. He got up and rushed out of his room, straight towards the elevator.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?", he asked. "Can you tell me whether one of my books is in the living room? I think I left it there. Blue cover"

"There are many books currently located in the living room", F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice answered him. "I am unable to tell whom the books belong to."

"Okay. Thank you."

When he got out of the elevator there was nobody else there. Maybe they were still in their rooms doing whatever Avengers did when they did not have to fight the bad guys and save the world. A mental image of Captain America sitting on the couch in full attire knitting a scarf formed in his brain, making him laugh. Tony would have liked it.

He strolled towards the door of the living room, still smiling. He'd just go in, look for the book, and go back to his room. Easy. Peter felt a bit tired, a result of his sleepless night, and if he would fall asleep while reading about thermodynamics he would rather like that to happen inside his own room. Not in the room everybody had access to. Not that walls or doors could keep Vision from entering his bedroom.

The living room, however, was not empty today. On one of the big grey couches "metal-arm guy", as Peter had addressed him after the airport battle prior to learning his real name, was watching some TV show. He looked up curiously when he noticed Peter lingering at the door.

"Uh… hey", Peter mumbled, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

The man seemed a bit startled, his eyes scanning Peter cautiously, although Peter had not intended to sneak up on him. He just nodded in return and turned his focus back to the show he had been watching. Peter would have bet his life that he was still watching him when he quickly crossed the room to get to the big table near the windows.

"Won't disturb you much… promise", Peter mumbled as he scanned the table for the book. There were several new magazines and booklets scattered around. Tony – or rather Pepper – apparently made sure that there was enough reading material now that there were more people living here. "Just looking for something… crap."

The book was not there. Which meant that he probably left it on one of the tables in the workshop, which, as F.R.I.D.A.Y. had informed him, was currently in some sort of lock-down since Tony was working on something and did not want to be disturbed. Which actually meant he did not want to interact with another human being at the moment, especially when the interaction with said human beings consisted of forced small talk, silence and awkward topics. Peter could understand him a bit. He stared at the amounts of magazines on the table and mentally debated with himself whether he should just grab a few of them and go back to his room so he would not look like an idiot.

Book: 2. Peter: 0.

"It's okay."

That made Peter turn around. The man's head was now turned towards him, both flesh and metal fingers playing with the remote in his hands.

"Sorry?", Peter asked.

"That show's not interesting anyway", he said, nodding towards the screen.

Peter, now curious which show he was watching, glanced towards the TV. Seven cooks with flashy clothes ran around frantically, some of them crying or ranting, apparently trying to cook some fancy meals before the time ran out. May loved those shows, while Peter tried his best to avoid watching them.

He heard a quiet sigh.

"Sam likes the show. Dunno why. Doesn't seem to be good."

Peter had prepared himself for a lot of things. He'd expected arguments or even yelling, people leaving the room as soon as somebody else came in, people spying on one another, nervous glances, the others interrogating or ignoring him. What he had not expected, however, was that the Winter Soldier wanted to have a harmless conversation with him. God, he was not prepared for this. Should he say something? If yes, what exactly should he say?

' _Hey, I know you killed the parents of Tony, but hey, you were kinda forced to do it, so we don't know what we should do now'_ did not seem like something good to say.

The seconds passed mercilessly, and Peter could see the man's head drop out of the corner of his eye. He felt bad for him.

 _Come on, a little conversation won't hurt anybody!_

"They almost never are", Peter said quietly. "Most of the time they are just panicking or screwing things up. I've seen Vision cook better stuff. Although he is on the safe side, as he doesn't eat what he cooks anyway."

Bucky's lips twitched for a moment and Peter counted that as a victory. He was good at making people laugh. He enjoyed it. When he was wearing his Spider-Man suit he was even better at making funny remarks, even when they were directed towards bad people with knives and guns and stuff who did not appreciate his sense of humour most of the time.

"Soooo… you… have a new arm?", Peter mumbled and gestured to Bucky's metal fingers. "That's cool. Is it better than your old one?"

Bucky frowned and for a moment Peter was sure he'd gone too far.

" _Yes, Spider-Man, very good. Go ahead and remind the guy that his arm was blown off. Nice move",_ Peter thought.

"It still feels too new. 'M not used to it yet."

Bucky wiggled his fingers a bit as if to see whether something had changed. A few months earlier Peter would have been excited at the prospect of talking to him about his metal arm. He would have been excited to learn how it worked and what it felt like to have something made of metal be attached to your body. Now he felt he should be more thoughtful and cautious when talking about those things.

"As long as it's not a flashy pink and covered with Hello Kitty stickers", Peter mumbled, which made Bucky laugh quietly. It sounded sincere. Real. "I'm more of a spider-themed pattern type of guy, though. You now, webs and stuff. Can't help it, I'm a bit of a narcissist. Although even I have to admit that Mr. St- Tony went a bit overboard with the amount of Spiderman bedsheets and decorations in my room."

Bucky nodded again, then scanned Peter from head to toes as if searching for something. Furrowing his brows, as if he did not like what he saw, he turned his head back towards the TV, avoiding his eyes. "How old are you?"

The question is merely audible, but Peter's enhanced hearing catches it anyway. He thinks about telling him a lie but reconsiders. He had no idea how much and what Tony had told the others, or _if_ he had told them anything about him at all. They all could tell he was young.

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen", Bucky echoed, stretching the word softly. He shakes his head. A silence fell between the two of them and Peter noticed the man in front of him had closed his eyes. He felt a bit weird watching him, so he turned away and looked around the room. There were more things than usual there. Things he'd never seen before and he was sure they did not belong to Tony.

"You can stick to the walls? I've seen you crawling around when we… at the airport", Bucky mumbled suddenly. He was eying Peter again with sharp, observing eyes.

"I can do pretty much everything a spider can do. Though I dare to say my taste in food is a bit better. Ask Vision."

Bucky snickered. He was about to say something when F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice interrupted their conversation. Had the AI been listening? Recording?

"Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark inquires if you are willing to join him on his way to the city. He wants to inform you that there will be desserts and cheeseburgers involved."

Obviously, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been listening.

"Oh… uh… yes, please tell him I want to come along. I'll be… I'm on my way."

He was visiting Queens not as often as he would like to nowadays, and he would not miss a chance to go. Maybe Tony would drop him off at May's apartment, so he could spend his afternoon with her. Maybe he could go and say hello to Ned. Or Michelle. Or just wander around Queens. Hell, he would have waited in an empty and dark alley for a few hours until Tony would pick him up again if that meant he could be in Queens for some time.

"Looks like I gotta go", Peter mumbled and waved to Bucky before crossing the room. He stopped at the door as a thought crossed his mind. "Do you… do you want anything?"

"What?"

"Doughnuts or stuff. I-I don't know what M- Tony has ordered for everyone here. Not paying attention much. But… here's your chance."

Asking the man if he wanted anything felt a bit like betraying Tony, but it would have been too rude if he had not done it. Uncle Ben had always told him it was polite to ask people if they wanted to have something to eat too when you were about to get food for yourself.

"No… thank you," Bucky mumbled and shook his head slightly.

"Okay."

Peter turned around and left the room faster than he had intended to. Tony was already waiting for him outside, casually leaning against one of his expensive cars with his phone in his hand. With the sunglasses and dressed in a dark suit he looked a bit like a character in a James Bond film.

"I thought Happy would drive us", Peter greeted him and gestured to the car.

"Not today", Tony said without looking up from his phone. "He just brought Pepper to a private airport. She'll be away for a few weeks. Meetings. Plus, I want to drive myself. Don't tell him, though, or he'll get sulky again. He takes that part of the job way too seriously."

Without another word he turned around and got inside the car, waiting for Peter to do the same. "You know, I thought you would like to accompany me. Also, I'm not a bad driver."

"I know", Peter mumbled. "You ignore the speed limits, though."

Tony shot him a glance. "Do I hear criticism? The one time you were driving a car – a car you stole, mind you – you bumped into every obstacle in your way."

"I did not have time to practice", Peter mumbled and looked out of the window. "And I was in a hurry."

"I could ask Happy to teach you how to drive."

Peter heard him chuckling and rolled his eyes. "I don't want to stress him out."

Instead of an answer, Tony turned on some music. It was a bit too loud and Peter would not consider himself a big ACDC fan, but he just ignored it. Happy never listened to music when he drove Peter around, so Peter usually had the choice between silence and listening to podcasts on his phone. They didn't talk much during the drive, with Tony seemingly lost in thought and Peter a tad too tired to feel like talking.

Tony chose a tiny, crowded café. He opened the doors and crossed the room in a Tony Stark manner to get to a small table at the very back, where he sat down and waited for Peter to follow him. They ordered coffee and before Peter could stop Tony the billionaire had ordered more doughnuts and slices of cake than Peter could possibly eat all on his own.

("Chocolate cake. Fruitcake. Caramel- you like caramel, right?").

As Peter stuffed his mouth with chocolate fudge cake, Tony was looking at his phone, silently scrolling, his face neutral and unreadable. Peter looked around. The many other people were all minding their own business, not worrying about the strange kid and the rich man. They were laughing, talking eagerly, some were playing with their phones. When was the last time he had felt as free and careless as those people? Peter couldn't tell.

"So, you were having a little chat with Jason Bourne earlier", Tony said, spitting the words out as if he was afraid he would choke on them if he would not spill them out fast enough.

What the hell. Where did that come from? Had he been spying on him or on the others?

"I'm not mad. Just curious. What got you to… to-", he continued, avoiding Peter's eyes.

"I was looking for a book I lost somewhere. And I thought it was in the living room." Peter said quickly, cutting him off so the man would not bother to keep on talking. "It wasn't, though. Maybe it's still in your workshop."

"Yes. Right."

"I'm going to get it later if that's okay. I don't need it right away, though, if you're busy with something. It's just I haven't finished it yet and I want to do so before- "

"You don't have to do that…. If you're not comfortable, I mean", Tony interrupted him. There was something in his voice that Peter could not make sense of.

"Do what?"

"Talking to them. Interaction, Peter. You don't have to do that if you don't want to", Tony said slowly.

"Ignoring them won't make the situation better", Peter answered him.

"God, you sound like Pepper."

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. For a tiny moment, he looked twenty years older than he was and Peter felt bad for him. Everything was exhausting and complicated and weird.

"Look, all I'm saying is this is not your mess. You don't have a role in all this. You don't need to get involved."

" _But what if I want to get involved?",_ Peter thought and bit his lip. Instead of answering he took a sip from the gigantic blue mug in his hands.

"Jesus, we managed to fuck this up royally. At least Fury will be happy that we are living together again", Tony mumbled, more to himself than to Peter. "Madhouse."

"Did he call you again?"

Tony shook his head absent-mindedly. "No. And you don't need to be concerned with those things."

A few more people entered the coffee shop and Peter turned around. Three giggling girls, all dressed in many layers of bright clothes, with enormous scarves and matching boots were ordering peppermint flavoured lattes. MJ would have made fun of their unoriginality with her gruff and honest nature. Peter had to smile at the thought of MJ with her black boots, her big jacked and her curly hair sitting next to the girls, drawing them in her sketchbook.

"Do you need more books?", Tony suddenly asked. Peter turned around again to meet his eyes and noticed that he had been watching him the entire time. "New stuff? I can arrange that, you know. Just tell me. Or tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. or Karen. If you're bored, I can- "

"I'm not bored", Peter interrupted him. Huh, that sounded a bit too aggressive. "Just not… challenged enough."

Better.

"You know when I was Spi… when I was going on patrol, I felt useful. And I sure as hell don't feel useful now. And the city is a bit too far away to just…", he trailed off.

"Sneak away in the middle of the night to play Queen's favourite vigilante in spandex for a few hours?", Tony offered with a smirk that did not reach his eyes, eying Peter cautiously as he let out a sigh.

"If I would do that I would not call it 'sneaking away'… I would leave you a note or something…but yes."

"A note. You live in a building equipped with the world's best AI and you would _leave a note_."

Tony looked as if Peter had just committed an atrocity. He just shrugged and took a sip from his mug. "I always left notes for May when I went somewhere."

"Okay, let's both pretend you would come up with a better way to tell me you ran away to join the circus, okay? Like, I don't know, using your phone or telling my AI _._ ", he mumbled and closed his eyes theatrically.

"You have shown a great deal of self-control. Actually, you are more disciplined than I thought you would be. I would have bet all my money on you eloping after the first few days", Tony said after a long pause and chuckled slightly.

Peter did not respond. Yes, had not ran away. Because his wounds had needed time to heal. Because May was informed of the whole situation and would have sent his ass straight back to the compound as she thought the place to be safer for him as their apartment now. Because he did not want to make everything more complicated for Tony, even though he ached for the feeling in his stomach he got when he flung himself from skyscrapers. If this was how adults were supposed to behave all the time, adulthood would suck big time.

"Look, I know this is stupid", Tony's voice was softer now. Pleading. As if he was able to read Peter's mind. "I can't promise you anything… but I'll see what I can do about the Spider-Man business, okay? And now eat the cake."

"Really? Because you already mentioned something similar and-"

"Yes, I will. But promise me you don't do anything stupid and reckless. I have a house full of angry people and I don't have the energy to bail you out of Ross' swimming bouncy castle when he manages to catch you. _Eat the cake_."

Peter nodded and failed to keep the smile off his face. God, how he missed being Spider-Man. During the past few weeks, he had worked on his web-shooters and could not wait to use them again. And he could talk to Karen again without it being weird. Sam and Clint had both caught him a few times seemingly talking to himself with the mask on. Both had backed away with comical expressions on their faces.

"Have you thought about Christmas yet?"

"What?", Peter asked at the sudden interruption.

"Christmas. Holiday in December. Spent with stuffing your stomach with unholy amounts of food, wrapping presents, unwrapping presents, drinking al- eggnog."

"What about it?"

"I just wondered… nothing…"

Tony looked away quickly, avoiding Peter's puzzled stare.

Christmas?

Ohhhhh. Right. He had not thought about Christmas yet. Surely May would want to spend Christmas with him and he could not bear the thought of her sitting beneath their Christmas tree alone. But he could not leave Tony to himself. He was sure that no matter how many times Rhodey or Pepper would tell him to leave his workshop and go to the kitchen or living room, he would just ignore their advice.

God in heaven, why did everything have to be that difficult.

Tony had his eyes glued to a sign on one of the walls that featured a cat with a big cup of coffee in one of its paws.

 _He just brought Pepper to the airport. She'll be away for a few weeks. Meetings._

Peter had to resist the urge to slap himself. God, he felt like an idiot now. Pepper would be away during Christmas. And he had no idea if Rhodey usually spent the holidays with Tony. Probably he had a family he wanted to spend Christmas with. That meant the only one left at the compound was Vision Did Vision even celebrate Christmas?

"I could spend part of the day with May", Peter said and hoped he sounded casual. "And Happy could pick me up to drive me back to the compound?", he offered with a weak smile.

Compromises.

"Uh, yes. Sure. Why not. If you want to", Tony said nonchalantly, his eyes still focusing on the sign Peter was sure he must have read over fifty times now.

"May always bakes way too many cookies. I could bring some with me. I mean, if they are edible. Last year her cookies tasted a bit like cinnamon flavoured cardboard. I will check before packing some, promise", he babbled. Peter was sure that May would try to pack him enough cookies to feed twenty families. Although they usually tasted not that great, he missed her cookies. And he missed her. Tony hummed in response.

"Maybe the families of the others would like to come too?", Peter asked and got a sharp nod in return.

Okay, maybe not the best thing he could have mentioned. He didn't even know if any of the others had families they could invite to come to the compound. The voice in his head told him to keep his mouth shut, but the ignored it and continued talking.

"It would be better to order food, though. I'm not sure Vision and I could cook enough to feed everyone. Or, you know, cook something that won't poison everybody by accident. We're still working on that."

A weak smile. Better than nothing.

"Maybe we could buy Vision a Christmas sweater."

That finally made Tony snort.

Victory.

So, new chapter is up. I've been a bit busy lately and writing this one took me a bit longer, sorry about that. Make me happy, write me a review and tell me what you think :) The next chapter will contain a bit more action, I promise.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter was falling. He could feel the cold air, could feel the well-known feeling in his stomach. The terrifying part, however, was not the fact that he was falling, but that he could not remember why the hell he was falling.

Plus, something seemed not right this time. Usually, Peter felt excitement when he jumped off buildings or bridges. He came to love the heavy feeling he got in his stomach when gravity mercilessly pulled him towards the ground, something neither Tony nor Ned could relate to. At first, he had been a bit afraid of great heights, but everything had changed after the incident at the Washington Monument. Heights? Not a problem. He was Spider-Man. He could manage that.

Now, however, it felt dangerous and unnatural. His whole body felt numb, as if he was covered in cotton, floating in space rather than falling towards earth. He wanted the numbness to go away, but then he would never ever feel that light again. Falling asleep could have been so easy, if there would not be that stupid feeling that stubbornly kept him awake.

There was also something wrong with his vision and his hearing, but Peter could not make out what it was. The buildings around him were blurry, the lights blinded him. Either the world around him was spinning, or he was. Peter did not know. All he wanted to do right now was to close his eyes and fall asleep, so the spinning sensation would stop. Everything would be quiet then. Peaceful and quiet. So very, very peaceful.

 _Do something or you might die, idiot!_

A voice. Why was there another voice here? He was supposed to be all alone. Peter turned his head lazily, but found nobody. No, he was falling alone. Two persons falling next to each other made no sense. Peter snorted. That would not be peaceful and quiet if he had to save another person from hitting the ground.

The ground. He would hit the ground, if there even was one. Peter had been falling forever now. When did it begin? When would it end? Since the fog hit him, everything was blurry.

 _Do something!_

"But what?", Peter croaked lazily, slurring a bit and opening his eyes wide, shaken by the sound of his own voice. If that was how his voice sounded nowadays then maybe it was better if he kept his mouth shut.

But maybe the voice was right. Peter forced his eyes to stay wide open and slowly turned his head, looking around. Large buildings in various shades of grey, countless cars on the streets and so many, many lights. He was not at the facility anymore. This was New York City! Peter opened his mouth, ready to curse, but could not produce a single sound this time. Bad. Very, very bad. Should he try to scream?

 _Save yourself, dumbass!_

Yes, right. That was a good idea. He grabbed one of his forearms and felt relief flooding his body when he realized he was wearing his web-shooters.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you,…", Peter mumbled, not even sure whom he was thanking. He aimed his wrists at one of the buildings, intending to shoot two strings of webs at one of the walls, so he could stop his fall or swing himself back up into the air. The second the webs attached to the wall, however, they snapped, doing nothing to decrease Peter's speed.

"Shit, no, no, nooo!"

Adrenalin pumped through his body. He was going to crash. Peter could make out individual people now, who were strolling through the streets, not bothering to look up. He would die. Oh god, Tony would kill him.

Peter frantically shot multiple webs at the buildings around him, attaching them all to his torso, hoping for the best. "Please, this has to work", he croaked. "C'mon, please! Please, please, please, …"

He held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the strings of webs to snap again.

"… please…"

He just hoped he would not hit one of the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, hoped that they would look up and would jump to the side.

"… please … please…"

He heard the familiar sound of the webs snapping, one after the other and felt his heart sinking. "No", Peter mumbled, bracing himself.

This time, however, he was lucky. The webs managed to decrease his speed far more than Peter had hoped they would. Two of the strings to his left somehow held his body weight, which sent him flying into an empty alley, crashing into a brick wall with a sickening sound before hitting the ground. Peter was sure he had heard one of his bones breaking when he hit the wall, which was soon confirmed by the stinging pain in his right arm.

At first, he could not breath at all. Peter tried to force the air back into his lungs, but only managed a few pathetic breaths after several minutes.

 _At least you're not dead!_

" _Not dead, no. But it sure as hell feels that way",_ Peter thought grimly. He tried to move his legs and arms but stopped, when that sent floods of pain up his back. " _Only a few more minutes_."

The noises of the city around him slowly came back. Peter was glad that at least there were no lights where he was lying, or else it could have been a bit overwhelming for him. Here it was peaceful and quiet. Peter nearly managed to laugh.

"Okay", Peter mumbled, feeling a bit narcissistic when referring to himself in the third person. "Let's see how badly Spider-Man's hurt, shall we?"

He wiggled his toes and nearly sighed in relief when he could. "Okay, that was a good start. Now legs", he said, slowly moving his legs. This time, no new floods of pain hit him. "Yes. Fantastic. Arms."

He lifted one arm, but could not move the other.

 _Broken arm, remember?_

"Yes. Yes, I remember", Peter answered the question, feeling awkward after doing so. Who talked to the voices inside their heads? Weird people, crazy people. People with head injuries.

"Shit", Peter cursed and brought one of his hands up to his head. There was blood on it, when he let it sink again. "Ouch."

'Ouch' was definitely an understatement. His whole body hurt, and Peter was nearly glad that it was too dark to have a good look at it. His head ached terribly, he had troubles breathing and, although Peter was not ready to admit it to himself, there was a high chance that there were multiple bleeding wounds, as he felt something warm and sticky on his chest and his arms. Tony would kill him, that was for sure.

Peter let his body fall back against the wall, when he heard it. A horrible, ghastly laugh that sent chills down his spine and made his body jump up in terror, clinging to the wall and looking around frantically. He knew that laugh, knew that person. He had heard it only minutes before.

 _Before what?_

Maybe before falling. What happened before he fell? He could not remember. Whenever he tried to think about it, his mind went blank. Nothing but black.

"WHERE ARE YOU?", Peter yelled. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

He knew he had to be afraid. But afraid of what? Who was laughing? He looked up, searched the buildings surrounding him with his eyes, but found nobody. The laughing continued, grew even louder, mocked him.

The tingling sensation in the back of his head was now impossible to ignore. Rather, Peter thought his head was going to explode. He had to find the source, had to find the person laughing at him.

 _Evil, evil, evil, evil, evil, evil…_

That was when he saw him. There, on one of the smaller buildings, stood a man wearing a white lab coat, laughing with his whole body shaking. Peter wanted to yell at him again, run towards him and punch him, web him up. But he could not move. This man was evil, and he could not even move a single finger to save himself!

Abruptly, the laughing ceased, the mouth turning into a sickening grin. There he stood, looking at Peter with his dark eyes before opening the mouth and speaking the words that nearly made Peter's heart stop beating.

"Till the next time, baby spider."

When Peter managed to breath again, he was gone. He could feel every single beat his worn out heart managed, felt the wounds on his chest, felt the pain in his right arm. He wanted to sink to the ground and take a nap right there.

 _But you can't!_

No, the voice was right. That was not the time for panicking. He had to do something, call someone. Tony! He had to call Tony. Immediately. Now. He reached into his pocket, but found it empty. His phone was not there.

"Shit. Shit, shit, no", Peter groaned. He must have lost it. Or he did not even take it with him. It did not matter. Stupid! He had been stupid.

"Okay, deep breath. Think, Parker, think", Peter mumbled, shaking his head slightly, which he regretted immediately. He was here, in an empty alley, in New York City. He should be in his bed at the facility. So why the fuck was he here? What happened? Did he run away, or did somebody kidnap him?

Peter could not imagine somebody breaking into the Avenger's facility only to kidnap him, especially not with Captain America, Black Widow and the others there, so he guessed that the first possibility was the more reasonably one. But why did he come here?

He could not remember a thing. Tony was going to think he broke his word again and ran away without telling him! Or maybe Peter had told him, he did not know. God, his heart hurt!

"…phone Tony. It can't be that bad … where … ", Peter mumbled as he dragged himself towards the busy street, out of the alley. There was no way he could use his web-shooters and swing back to the facility. Not even was it way too far away, but he could not even lift his arms over his head. And there was no way he would call May or Ned with a mad scientist running around.

The other people did not pay him much attention or ignored him, and Peter could not blame them. He had caught his reflection in one of the windows. He looked like the victim in one of those slasher horror films. His clothes were torn and bloody, he had to clutch his arm to his chest and there were open wounds and bruises everywhere.

When he reached a telephone booth, his legs felt like he had recently run a marathon. He hoped and prayed and mumbled to himself that Tony would answer the call quickly. Only Tony did not pick up his phone at all.

"Shit", Peter cursed. He tried to recall Happy's number, but couldn't. "Ridiculous. This is ridiculous."

He had called Happy more than he had called May or Ned. He had learned his number by heart, in case he would need to call him from a stranger's phone. Why couldn't he recall that information now?

"Somebody else. Just… call somebody else."

But who? He didn't know any of the other Avenger's telephone numbers – not that he wanted to call them anyway –, only the number of one of the phones at the compound. So he dialled that.

"Please. Somebody. Tony."

" _Yes?"_

Not Tony.

"H-hey", Peter managed to croak. There was silence on the other end of the line and for a moment Peter was sure the other had ended the call.

" _Who is this? Why are you calling?",_ the voice asked grimly.

Great. Out of all people who could have answered the call… Tony would be so mad.

"Uh. It's me. Peter…", he mumbled, hoping that his voice did not sound too broken. "Is there… where is Tony?"

" _Workshop_ ", was all he got for an answer. By now, Peter could hear the irritation in the other's answer. Maybe he was wondering why Peter was calling when he should be in his bed. Or somewhere else in the facility.

"Okay. Yes. Makes sense", Peter said. Tony often ignored his phone when he was working on something. A habit that was often criticized by Pepper. "I-is there the possibility that you could fetch me… Happy? Or Rhodey?"

" _Don't know where they are. 'm going to tell the others-"_

"NO!", Peter yelled. "No, no, no. It's okay. It's alright. We don't need all the others to know. Wait."

" _For what?"_

Bucky sounded utterly confused by now and Peter could not really blame him. He could not even understand the whole situation himself.

"I don't know. Just wait."

When neither Tony nor Happy or Rhodey were available, he needed to tell somebody else. He needed help. His increased healing had taken care of most of the smaller wounds, but the major ones were still bleeding and talking was getting difficult now. God, how on earth was he going to explain this to Tony later?

"Okay, I might have a problem", Peter admitted. Now he could only hope that Bucky would not make a fuss. "Don't freak out, but-"

" _I'm not freaking out."_

"Yeah, I know. Okay, listen", Peter babbled and took a deep sigh. "Don't ask why, but I'm in… Brooklyn, I think. A-and… I need help."

" _Help with what?"_

"I don't know. But it would be great – really, really great – if somebody could, I don't know, pick me up", Peter mumbled, his speech slurry.

" _You okay? Want me to come and pick you up?"_

Peter sighed. "Yes."

There was silence on the other end again and Peter closed his heavy eyelids. His legs trembled a bit and it was hard to stay upright. He could only hope that Bucky would hurry up, or else he might pass out right there.

" _Stay where you are. Don't move."_

Peter managed to croak 'I won't' into the speaker, although Bucky had already ended the call. How on earth the soldier was going to find him without an address, he was not sure. He assumed it would be easier for him to find him on the roof of some building, so he dragged his broken body over to a fire exit staircase, climbing to the top of the building and collapsing on the roof. His legs were shaking very bad by now and he was sure he could not move his limbs, even when somebody would pay him a million dollars for it. The blood on his chest felt warm and Peter thought it might be a good idea to press his hand on the wound, but with his eyes closed and his tired and useless hands this was impossible.

That was when two pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, making him cry out in shock.

"Hey!"

He forced his eyelids open and gasped when two faces appeared above him.

"Peter!", the left person said, taking stroking his cheek slightly. "Can you hear me?"

 _We know him! Remember?_

Right. Yes. Peter knew him. Dr. Banner.

A few days prior, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had alerted everyone that there was a visitor at the compound and not even a few seconds later Bruce came bursting through the door, his shirt torn and his hair a mess. Peter could remember that day. There had been a lot of coffee and alcohol and tea, a lot of talking and yelling, even a lot of hugs. It had been an awkward day. However, this night was also quite weird.

"Uh-huh", Peter mumbled and wanted to sit up, but the hands were very persistent.

"No, stay. I need to look at your wounds for a moment. Okay? Only for a moment. And then we will bring you back to the compound, alright?"

We?

Ah. Yes. Peter remembered that as well. He let his head fall to the other side to look at the second person's face, whose expression was blank.

"What happened?", Bucky asked. Peter opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again when there were no words forming in his brain. He did not know what happened. What was he going to even say to them? So he just shook his head slightly, but was gently scolded by Bruce.

"No! Don't do that. Your head is bleeding and I don't want it to become worse."

"Crashed", Peter mumbled, looking back at Bruce, who just nodded with a worried expression on his face.

Peter watched him turning towards Bucky, saying something Peter could not understand. Bucky just nodded and stood up, vanishing for a few moments before returning with a blanket. The next moment he was moved to a sitting position with the blanked draped over his shoulders. Without the adrenalin, sitting up hurt to an extent where Peter was sure he might pass out.

Peter heard Bruce mumble a low 'sorry' and turned his head towards him to ask what he meant, when his body was yanked upwards. He let out a gasp as the sharp pain flooded his entire body and inhaled shakily when it finally and slowly began to ebb away. His good arm was around Bucky's shoulders and the man half dragged him towards the Quinjet.

"Tony?", he managed to ask between short breaths. Bruce, who was behind them, let out a sigh. "He's in his workshop. We tried to alert him through F.R.I.D.A.Y., but it did not work. We had no time for that before we left. I found it more important to come and find you. But, don't worry. We're going to fetch him as soon as we're back."

It was a quiet flight. Bruce did not leave his side once and seemed more worried about Peter's state than Peter himself was. Once, he mentioned to the doctor that it was alright and that he could not even feel the pain in his hand anymore, which only made the older man frown and glance towards the front of the jet. He had a hand placed on one of his shoulders and shook him gently whenever he tried to close his eyes.

"I'm just tired."

"I know that you are. But you need to stay awake a bit longer. Can you do that?", Bruce asked him with his voice calm and a worried expression on his face. "Only a little bit."

"Yep."

"Five minutes", Bucky called from the front of the jet and Bruce sighed again, only this time he looked relieved.

After that, Peter must have zoned out a bit, despite Bruce's efforts to keep him awake, because when he opened his eyes the next time, he was not on the Quinjet anymore. Instead, he was lying on an examination table in what looked like to be a lab. The lights were terribly bright and the table cold, but at least Peter did not feel pain anymore. There was this warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach and he felt like he was floating a bit.

"Look who's gracing us with his presence!"

Oh shit.

Peter's eyes darted around the room, trying to find the owner of that voice. Bruce, who was standing next to some medical machinery, turned around and shot Peter a sympathetic glance.

"Warn a man next time you decide to go all suicidal, will you?"

Peter let his head fall to his left side, unable to lift his head up. He could not really move his body much.

"What?"

Tony snorted. He sat directly next to his bed, his arms crossed and an expression on his face, that was both furious and worried at the same time. He shook his head dramatically.

"What the fuck happened?", he snapped, leaning forward.

Oh crap. He was going to think that Peter broke his promise. No. Nope. Not good.

"I… ran against … a tree."

"A tree?", Tony repeated, raising his brow. He scanned Peter from head to toes and leaned back. "Your arm is broken. There are a lot of bruises. There are a thousand stitches in your chest. A _tree_?"

"It was a big tree."

Tony closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. There was a sound coming from one of the corners and when Peter managed to look into that direction he saw Bucky leaning against the wall that was the farthest away from Tony and him.

"Okay, I give you one last chance, but then-"

"I don't know", Peter interrupted him, surprised by how utterly broken his voice sounded. How long had he been unconscious? What did they give him that made talking or thinking or moving his limbs so terribly difficult? He wanted to jump up and run to his room, but his body was not taking orders from him.

"What does that mean you don't fucking know?", Tony called, his voice louder than before, which made Peter wince a bit. How could sound hurt his ears that bad?

"Tony", Bruce scolded him. "Be gentle."

"Gentle? You know, as much as I appreciate your advice, but don't _you_ want to know what happened?", Tony argued, gesturing to Peter with one hand.

Bruce fiddled with a medical instrument in his hands Peter hoped was not a needle. Because if it was, it was a very big needle.

"I did not say that. Of course I want to know. And I want to help him. But I don't think yelling at him in this state is going to be beneficial for either one of you."

Tony huffed and sat back in his chair, shooting a glance towards Bucky, who was still leaning against the wall. Peter was not sure if the man had even moved since they all got in here. Probably not.

"I don't know what happened", Peter managed to say. He only hoped he talked a bit faster than it took him to form the sentences in his mind. So slow. So very, very slow. "Something… happened."

Tony snorted again. "Yeah? We kinda guessed that, kid. But you might want to add a few more details."

"I don't know."

"Why were you in Brooklyn?"

"I don't know."

"Look", Tony exclaimed frustrated. "You have to give us something. Anything."

Peter stayed quiet, letting his eyes close again. What on earth should he tell him? That he magically appeared in New York City? Plummeting to his death? Maybe he could fall asleep right here and then, without them noticing. Maybe they would be nice and let him sleep. That would give him time to think this story through.

"Kid, please…"

They were not going to be nice.

"I don't know anything. I was just falling. I don't know how or why I was there! I don't r'member it!", Peter cried out. Why couldn't they let him _think_ for a few minutes. "There was fog. I was falling. It felt weird."

"Fog", muttered Bruce, as Tony only stared at him with wide eyes that displayed his irritation very clearly. "What kind of fog was that, Peter?"

"I don't know. White? Grey? I don't know."

He let out a sigh. God, this was not good. He wished he could tell them anything useful. Anything that would tell them that he was not a stupid boy who ran away in the middle of the night looking for drama. But all he had in his repertoire was fog, falling from the sky and the weird man.

"The man!", Peter yelled suddenly, which made Tony jump a little where he was sitting. "When I hit the ground, there was a man. Laughing."

He tried to sit up, but was pushed back down by Tony and Bruce, who came to his side instantly.

"A man? What man?"

"Somebody you knew?", Bruce asked calmly, shooting Tony a warning glance.

"No. He looked like a doctor. Or an inventor or something. OUCH!"

He turned his head to look at Bruce, who had stuck the big needle into his good arm. "Sorry. I thought you would not notice…"

"Scientist or inventor", Tony repeated. He forced a smile on his face, trying to lighten up the mood when he saw Peter's expression. "Like Brucie and me? Running around in the lab looking extremely good and handsome?"

"No, he looked a bit like those lunatic doctors trying to claim world domination. Messy, white hair. Those who run around with a lab coat 24/7", Peter says, furrowing his brows a bit. "You're more like… Willy Wonka. Only your passion is mechanics, not chocolate. Do we have chocolate?"

There was quiet laugher coming from the corner and Peter had to keep himself from snorting when Tony shot a look into Bucky's direction.

"I'm not a bit like Willy Wonka."

"Sorry, Peter. That's the pain killers. Maybe you're going to feel a bit dizzy and tired now", Bruce said, smiling at him apologetically, although Peter could swear he saw him grinning as he turned around and went back to one of the tables.

"Okay, I'll tell you what we're going to do, alright?", Tony muttered and put a hand over his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "We'll let Bruce finish taking care of those wounds. Maybe you'll have a little nap. After all this, I might need a nap too. And then we're going to sit down, have a cup of tea and I'm going to rip your head off in a really peaceful manner. Okay, kid?"

"Is the last bit open for debate?"

"No."

"Okay. But only if I can have chocolate."

"Yes. Right. Okay", Tony sighed. "I'll buy you all the damn chocolate I can find. And then we'll talk."

"Mhh-hmm", Peter hummed.

He wanted to say something else, but could not open his mouth again. Everything felt extremely heavy and dark. It was like his brain was melting slowly and he forgot how to speak or move his body. Around him the men were talking to each other with muffled voices now, and although drifting farther and farther away, Peter could swear they were arguing. After a few seconds, however, everything went quiet.

* * *

On the 24th Peter found himself sitting next to a very perplexed Happy at the table in May's apartment. After twenty minutes of hugging and scolding Peter, May had decided to invite Happy as well, who had helped Peter carry the presents, since one of his arms was in a cast now. Ignoring the man's lame excuses and protests, May had grabbed his elbow and had dragged him inside.

Every other day Peter would have laughed at Happy's semi-scared expression on his face, but he was too busy observing and memorizing the moment. The smell of the food. May's bright clothes, her hair, her voice filled with so many emotions. The little Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, decorated with little red ornaments. The many new books on May's bookshelf. The fancy plates she and Ben had received as a wedding present and which she hated but still used them occasionally on special days. The way she was talking about him or Ben when she told Happy stories.

("Five weeks, Peter!").

He wanted to be able to recall all this when he was back at the compound. He _needed_ to be able to remember every tiny bit.

("I know, May. I'm sorry.")

At some point, Happy excused himself to go to the bathroom and Peter could hear him mumbling something about a 'hostage situation' into his phone. Peter was sure he was talking to Tony. _"He's not coming to rescue you",_ he thought, smirking.

The food was not really that good, but Peter ate it anyway. He'd missed it, even if the potatoes tasted an awfully lot like socks. Happy, on the other hand, looked not happy at all and spent half an hour pushing the vegetables from one side of the plate to the other. Every now and then, he would shoot Peter glances, as if it was his fault that he had to eat May's food, but he never said a thing. After the fiasco a few days ago, Happy had changed his behaviour towards Peter, never said something gruff or mean, never snapped at him. They all did, in a way. Peter knew they were doing so to help him, but it got on his nerves. He was not a raw egg they had to handle with the utmost care, so he did not break. He was Spider-Man, he was strong, even if he had a few memory problems at the moment.

"I've missed that, you know?", May told him between bites. Even she could not keep a straight face. "That there is somebody here when I come home. Somebody I can cook for, watch movies with. I'm so happy you are here."

"I miss it too, May."

She smiled at him, but her eyes gave her sadness away. Peter suddenly had to fight the urge to run, despite his desires to never leave this flat again. When he sat on the backseat of the car an hour later, he felt kind of relieved. He loved his aunt, never wanted to leave her alone in the first place, but he knew those moments were dangerous. And what for? Visiting her just to see her sad eyes, because they both knew he had to leave again. Was it worth it?

"Hey kid. You okay?"

Peter focused on Happy's worried face in the front.

"Yeah. Sure", Peter replied. "Why not. Great food, eh?"

Happy snorted and started the car. He could hear him mumble something, but decided to ignore it this time. Even Spider-Man did not need to hear everything. He closed his eyes and thought about May's little Christmas tree. He had helped her decorate it ever since he had taken him in. It was not big, so it did not take them long to hang up May's beloved ornaments, but she had always made him hot chocolate and they had watched a Christmas movie afterwards. Peter had loved that tradition. And now he had to leave May's decorated flat behind and spend his Christmas in the grey and white walled facility, where nobody was in the mood for decorating anything.

When they got back to the compound, however, Peter was proven wrong. There were Christmas lights and little trees everywhere. It rather looked like the place where Santa Claus lived with his elves instead of the infamous Avengers base.

"When did that happen?", Peter asked Happy, who already walked towards the entrance. "I could have sworn that there were no decorations when we left? Happy? Happy! When did he-"

When they entered the building, Peter's breath was taken away. Not even Santa Clause's North Pole was decorated like this. Not even the insides of a snow globe looked like this. When Peter would have to draw a picture of Christmas wonderland, he would draw this. There were bigger trees with colourful and expensive looking ornaments here and there, lights framing the windows and doors, twigs of evergreens above the doors and on the railings, mistletoes and poinsettias.

"Tony really went a bit overboard with that, don't ya think?", Peter asked the driver and swallowed. Happy just grumbled and left him standing there.

A few minutes later, Peter found himself to be in the second weird Christmas situation of the day. This time, however, he was in the kitchen, together with the other Avengers, who were all either cooking or just drinking hot chocolate and playing board games. When he had entered the room, Wanda had invited him in, had given him a mug and had sat down next to him. Peter suddenly knew how Happy must have felt.

"When did the transition to Winter Wonderland happen? I was gone for a few _hours_ ", he asked the others, glancing around.

The guy Tony had told him was named Sam Wilson was sitting at the table a bit away from him. Tony had been madly worried when he did not recognize him after what happened.

 _("You fought him in Germany? Remember? Bird guy. Annoying, Has Wings?")_

"Stark decided to go bonkers", Sam told him. He didn't take it personally that Peter could not remember him, but after Peter could leave the hospital bed he could have sworn that the man avoided him in the hallways and the living room. "Came out of the blue, for everyone."

"It's… a bit much", Peter replied. Hawkeye snorted. Peter had not been able to remember him either.

"Yeah. A bit much. Sure. It looks like we live in an elf's fluffy ass now."

"I like it", Wanda announced.

"It's not that we don't like it", Bruce said, looking up from the magazine he had been reading the whole time. "It's just that we were a bit taken by surprise."

He looked at Peter, a comical expression on his face. "Peter, how are you?"

Peter had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "I'm fine."

Bruce nodded and smiled at him, but he could tell that he was still worried. His memory problems had been as much a surprise to them all as the Christmas decorations were now.

"Good. That's good. You know, it can take a while until-"

"Food's ready", Steve interrupted them, waving with a spatula. "Can somebody set the table?"

Peter stood up, ready to help. One of his arms was still in a cast, but he could still help. But as he got near the cutlery, he was stopped by Steve.

"Could you… err… try to get Tony to come out of the workshop?", he asked with a very low voice. "He's there since you left. Actually, I think he has not left it in a few days."

Steve grimaced. Did he look nervous? Could Captain America indeed be nervous?

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure. I can try", Peter told him. He smiled at the taller man and hoped his best that it looked sincere. Steve nodded, before he got back to where Bucky was still standing and eying the rest of the group. He left the kitchen, slowly wandering to Tony's workshop, thinking about what he could do or say to drag the man upstairs. When he arrived at the doors, however, his mind was blank.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., could you open the doors for me?", he asked the AI and got the answer he anticipated immediately.

" _I'm not allowed to let anyone in_ ", F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice told him. " _I'm sorry, Peter."_

Peter leaned his back against the wall and let his body slid to the floor. This could probably take a while.

"Okay. Can you tell him that it's me outside and that there's food?", he tried again. "Maybe he could get upstairs with me."

There were a few moments of silence and just when Peter was not sure he would even get an answer, F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice piped up once more.

"Boss wishes to inform you that he's not hungry and that he's working on a project."

Peter sighed. This was not going well at all. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand, the other arm lying useless in his lap. His stomach grumbled, and Peter nearly thought the sound might produce an echo. The others were upstairs eating delicious food, which probably did not taste like socks, and he was down here trying to lure his mentor into trying to abandon his work for the night to join them. Peter was sure as hell he looked miserable, sitting on the floor and waiting for the impossible to happen.

"Tell him… tell him that I'm not going away", he told F.R.I.D.A.Y. and tried to sound stern, but ended up raising his voice at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question instead. He sighed. "God, who am I kidding. That's not really a threat, or is it, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? I mean, well, yes, I could go to my room. But that's about all I can manage now. A bit pathetic, don't you think?"

He got no answer from the AI. Instead, his stomach grumbled again. He was about to say something again, when to his surprise the door opened slowly.

Tony looked tired and just as miserable as Peter thought he looked himself. He shook his head and sighed with an annoyed undertone when he spotted him down on the floor. "Come with me", he muttered before heading off towards the elevator. Only minutes later, Peter found himself to be standing outside on the big balcony, a glass of scotch in his hand.

Peter wanted to ask Tony why they were outside while the others were inside, munching happily on their food, but knew better. He watched Tony taking sips from his own glass, breathing a bit more heavily than normal. He was nervous.

"That the first drink of your life?", Tony asked after moments of silence, looking into the distance. He had poured more of the scotch into his own glass before placing the bottle on the ground next to him.

"No. It's not", Peter answered and when Tony just raised an eyebrow at that he added. "I've been to a few parties, you know?"

Tony shot him a glance, as if he wanted to find out whether Peter was lying or not. But the questioning look in his eyes soon turned into something else.

"Ever drank something that is worth six thousand dollars?"

When Peter looked shocked at the golden liquid and then back at Tony, the man just smirked.

"Good. Try it."

He watched Peter cautiously taking a sip, watched him wrinkling his nose and frowning, before coughing and licking his lips. Peter saw Tony glancing at him expectantly.

"Hmm. It tastes… alright, I think."

He took another generous sip. This time the alcohol did not burn as bad in his throat and he nodded satisfied with himself.

"Actually, I think it tastes kinda good. Do you drink that often?"

He gestured to the bottle next to Tony.

"No. My father did. That's Howard's", Tony mumbled with a voice so low even Peter had to listen very carefully. He watched the older man playing with the glass in in is hand and suddenly felt like an intruder, as if he witnessed something he was not supposed to know. They stood in silence for a few seconds, during which Peter watched the little white clouds his breath formed when he exhaled.

"He always drank Scotch when he wanted to celebrate. Or when he wanted to offer somebody very important a drink. Something like that. He always had at least one bottle in the house", Tony told him, this time with a certain nonchalance in his voice. He took another sip, then looked at Peter from the side and said, "I don't even like it that much. It's a ritual."

Peter nodded absent-mindedly. "I don't remember what my father liked to drink when he wanted to celebrate." He took the last sip and let his fingers play with the glass, unsure what to say after that, waiting for Tony to either continue talking or changing the subject. Ben had usually only drunken beer, sometimes a glass of wine with May. Peter had never paid enough attention to glasses and bottles, so he had no idea. The thought stung a bit. Maybe he should have paid more attention.

Next to him Tony sighed and finished his drink. He took Peter's glass and placed it together with his own next to the bottle on the ground.

"Don't tell your aunt", he said in a serious tone.

"I won't tell a living soul."

"Good. Otherwise Captain Killjoy in there might actually combust because of the rules we just broke."

Peter snickered.

"Do you speak… I mean, with each other… sometimes?"

"Yes, kid. We speak with each other. A little", Tony said reassuringly. "Turns out a kid nearly falling to his death in New York City who experiences memory problems afterwards causes a lot of opportunities for serious conversations. Actually, everybody freaked out a bit."

Peter shuddered at the mention of the incident. The thought of waking up somewhere completely else still gave him the creeps. It was like he had been sleepwalking all the way to Brooklyn, which alone would have been pretty bad, but combined with the appearance of an evil doctor it was twice as bad. He frowned at the memory of the man in the lab coat.

"Natasha's working on it, you know?"

Damn, did Tony watch him the whole time? Peter nearly groaned, but managed to stay quiet.

"Yeah. No, it's okay. It's good."

Tony nodded, but did not seem convinced. He looked like he was about to say something, his mouth already opened a bit, but he stayed silent. Peter thought that way he looked a bit like a fish. He watched him shaking his head and reaching into his pocket, pulling something black out.

"That's for you, by the way. And don't try to give it back. I was working on that earlier today. Thought it would be… useful."

He let if fall unceremoniously into Peter's hand. The thing was very light, lying in Peter's hand like a black feather. Peter lifted his hand and examined it for a while.

"Thank you. W-what is that?", he asked Tony, looking at it expectantly. "It's so light."

"Wristband. It's a Christmas present."

It was slim and pitch-black, and Peter could not see a closing mechanism. Tony took the wristband from him again and put it around his wrist, the thing fastening automatically.

"It's a panic button. For when you are not wearing your suit and decide it's finally time for my heart attack", Tony explained accusingly. "There's a button on the underside of it. Use it when you need it."

After that he let go of Peter's hand and watched him having a closer look. If he pulled the sleeves of his shirt over the wristband, nobody would see it, Peter thought. Although, the thing looked so plain and unimpressive Peter doubted anybody would expect it to be something more than a simple wristband. He could not even feel it.

"Thank you, M- Tony", Peter said. Tony just nodded, rubbed his eyes with his hands and let out a sigh.

"Yeah", Tony mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He stayed silent for a few seconds, then stilled and said, "I heard something about Happy being held hostage by your lovely aunt?"

Peter laughed. It sounded sincere this time. Light and careless.

"It was not that serious, though. I mean, yeah, the food was a bit terrible and I think she made him eat a lot more cookies than he wanted to eat in the first place, but he made it out alive. Oh god, I hope he's still alive after eating that."

He saw Tony smiling and glanced towards the building. How long had they been standing outside? Peter had lost track of time, but he was sure the other people must have started their meal by now.

"Hey, don't you think… it would be a good idea to go inside and join the others?", Peter asked slowly. He watched Tony carefully, saw him shifting his weight uncomfortably and heard him sighing. "I mean, we don't have to. But I thought… since it's Christmas and everything… and we're both hungry. I'm sure it won't be that weird. Vision's there. And he's wearing that Christmas sweater we got him."

Peter would have found more reasons why they should go inside, but Tony simply waved at him to stop babbling. He shook his head slightly and Peter was afraid he would vanish into the depths of his workshop again, but instead he got the next surprise of the day. Only minutes later they both were sitting at the big table next to all the others, Tony sitting next to Bruce, chatting eagerly with the scientist. It was too loud for Peter to understand a word, but it seemed to be interesting, since there were hardly any pauses.

Peter was sitting next to Wanda, who would offer him more and more food the second he emptied his plate and Peter took it thankfully. Earlier he had successfully managed to only eat half of the food May had put on his plate, but that also meant he was pretty much starving when he got back to the compound. So, he kept on eating with Wanda smiling at him occasionally. Vision, on the other hand, sat there not touching a single thing, being a stark contrast to the black hole Peter's stomach seemed to be that night. They engaged in a conversation Peter could not follow, therefore he focused on eating, looking up from his plate only now and then to check on Tony.

"You like the food", a voice suddenly said next to him. "Steve will be pleased with his cooking skills."

Peter's head shot up a tad too fast. For a normal human being, this move would have hurt.

"It's delicious. Really good", he told Bucky with his mouth half full and he meant it. The food was probably cooked in heaven.

Bucky only nodded and kept silent for the next minutes. He let him finish his plate, keeping his eyes on the others in the room. "Do you feel better?", he asked him when Peter pushed his plate away. His eyes fell on Peter's cast.

"Wh- Yeah. Yeah, it's good. It's nothing", Peter mumbled, shooting a glance towards Tony. He was still talking to Bruce, which was probably better, considering who was sitting next to Peter.

"Can you remember a bit more now?", the former soldier asked him quietly. "Sounds. Faces. Something like that."

"No", Peter told him a bit too fast. He could not remember a damn thing. Tony had told him that it did not matter that much. The doctor, however, did not seem very happy whenever Peter answered a question with 'dunno'. When he had talked to the doctor, the others were standing outside Peter's room, arguing loudly before Bruce had told them to keep their voices down.

Bucky nodded, playing with his hands. "It will get better. You have to be patient."

Peter sighed heavily. "Yes. I know."

There was not really anything else he could do, Peter thought grimly. It was not as if he could drink a magic potion or ask Bruce to do some tests.

"They want to watch Christmas movies afterwards", Bucky told him suddenly, eying him with something in his eyes Peter could not identify. He glanced around. The others were all talking to each other. Only the two of them were sitting at the end of the table, brooding. "I don't know any of the films, so it's something new for me."

"That's probably better", Peter told him. "Some of them get boring when you watch it too many times."

He saw Tony and Bruce laugh, saw Wanda and Vision holding hands and suddenly felt very glad he was here. Not because he was enjoying him so much. His arm and chest still hurt, and he was not really in the mood for partying. It was a miracle that May had not noticed him pressing his lips together in pain whenever he moved too fast. But it was somehow calming to watch the others communicating again, even when there was still caution in their voices when Steve and Tony talked to each other, which they tried to mask with politeness, and even when there were many pauses when they reached certain topics. The situation was far from being perfect, Peter knew that and he was not stupid enough to let himself be blinded by one single evening. But at least they made progress. So when he marched to his room several hours later, after very awkward two and a half hours of watching a Christmas movie in complete silence, he decided to categorize the evening as a success.

* * *

 **I'm so sorry it took my so long. I initially planned this to be two separate chapters, but as usual life got in the way. Therefore, this chapter is divided into an action part and a Christmas part, but I hope you like and enjoy it anyway. Also please excuse any grammar mistakes you might find, I did not have much time to proof-read and I did not want to upload it long after Christmas.**

 **I also wanted to skip the whole 'Bruce is finally back' part, because I thought it would need too much explaining. Therefore, I decided to just let him show up again. So here he is. I hope I wrote him alright.**

 **Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! I hope I'll get a few for this chapter as well, I always love to hear how you like the story so far. Send me your thoughts, ideas, criticism**

 **Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you all!**


	6. Chapter 6

"You're not coming. Full stop."

Tony Stark's eyes were glued to his phone. He was not looking at him as he said it and Peter wondered if that made communicating with him easier for the billionaire or if he only read something very important or interesting. Uncle Ben used to not look him in the eyes when he had to tell him something he was sure he would not like at all. May, however, was the complete opposite, locking her eyes mercilessly with his. Peter had not had enough time to figure out which technique Tony preferred.

He would not beg to be allowed to come with them, and the phrase 'but I'm bored' would sound too much like he was a moody teenager complaining to his mother. In the end, he thought, it would not matter what he said. This was not a trip to the supermarket, but a mission. And he was the baby of the team. With severe memory issues and his arm still in a cast. He had wanted to get rid of the thing days ago, but since no one was sure how fast he could heal, they had agreed that he had to wear it a few days longer. Just to be sure.

"But-"

„No – because you are a magnet for trouble. You don't even have to go and look for it", Tony said, looking up from whatever he was researching on his phone. He put the device down again.

Peter was ready to open his mouth, a tirade of good reasons why he should be allowed to accompany them already forming in his head, but Tony did not give him any chance to speak a single word. He raised his right hand to stop whatever he wanted to say, shaking his head slightly but dramatically, before continuing.

"No, kid. You only have to sit on the couch for a bit, maybe with some snacks and a blanket, and wait for the inevitable to happen. It's like a gift. An unnecessary, dangerous kind of gift. But still…", Tony trailed off, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Natasha and Sam were standing. They were talking to each other, but Peter could swear that the Black Widow had an eye on them. And he could not blame her. He did not really look like the greatest superhero in the world right now, with just his pyjama pants and his NASA sweatshirt on. Next to the Avengers in their battle gear or in decent clothing he kind of looked like the lost kid.

"Maybe when we are looking for someone in the future, we'll just place you on a chair in an empty room and drink tea and play board games in the room next to you – maybe Monopoly – and wait until the target arrives", Tony went on, now smiling a little bit at the prospect of that. "We could order pizza."

Okay, fight lost. Completely lost. But he could still do something, couldn't he?

He had no idea how long the others would be gone, but Peter was sure it could not be too long. Considering the way Tony had explained the mission to him, it sounded terribly like it was just some kind of test, to see if they could get along well enough in a situation which required teamwork. They all seemed hopeful, and Peter was too. Tony and Cap had begun to communicate. A little. Hawkeye and Sam had stopped glaring at the members of the opposite team. They were not the same team as before, but they were on the right path.

Still, Peter could not help to feel like the recently adopted puppy who was not allowed to go outside alone.

"But I could go and look for the creepy scientist! I can be helpful too!", he said, his voice louder than before.

"Hey! No. No, no, no. Nope, I don't think so. And do you wanna know why? Because he could kill you, that's why!", Tony responded. He obviously tried his best not to raise his voice, not to seem too tense, but his facial expression betrayed him.

"So could a very vicious bird if he really wanted to. Or-", Peter mumbled, not even sure what he wanted to say. He felt betrayed his own brain. This was nonsense. He was supposed to be one of the smartest kids in school. Hell, he was supposed to be one of the smartest persons in this building.

"Look, I don't know what kinds of birds you have seen in your life, but I'm positive that this guy is a tiny little bit more dangerous than a pigeon", Tony said, rubbing his eyes. He looked like he'd aged thirty years since they began chatting. Peter felt guilt spread in his chest. He looked tired and Peter could not blame him. He did not sleep much himself since the incident in New York. "The guy could be a HYDRA scientist or someone hired by someone more dangerous. And since you can't remember anything, and we found out nothing about mister psycho doctor, it would be safer for you if you'd stay here."

Ouch. He was the useless tool in the box now.

"I mean, running around in the city looking for one specific man does not sound like the plan of the year", Tony continued. "Natasha has been looking for him. Not even a _spy_ has been able to find that psycho yet."

"Yes, but-", Peter tried.

"No. Not alone. We can make plans when we're back. It won't take long", Tony interrupted him, throwing a glance over his back. Natasha, it seemed, was getting nervous.

"Where are you guys even going?", Peter asked. "What's the mission?"

Tony shook his head as if to tell him to mind his own business. He inhaled to answer when his eyes met Peter's and he stopped midbreath. He stared at him for a few seconds, lost in thought, then swallowed and sighed, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and gentle, as if he knew he was about to regret it.

"There's this warehouse we think is used as a HYDRA base. It could be empty, but Natasha has voiced her concern. There are… multiple activities that can be traced back to the location", Tony said. Natasha turned their head towards them. She was listening, Peter realised.

"Why are you leaving in the middle of the night?", he asked. "You did not tell me anything."

He realised how accusing and needy he sounded, how young and left out. If Tony noticed, he chose to ignore it. Thank god.

"It's essential that the government does not know about this", Tony told him with a wink. When Peter still looked confused he decided to carry on, despite Natasha's death glare. Peter wondered if she would talk to him when they were alone on the jet. "There might be… let's call it an undercover agent among the government people. And we can't risk them finding out what we're about to do. Therefore, we need be discrete about the whole thing. Even if it's a dead end."

Peter nodded, his brain still half asleep. Maybe he should start drinking coffee. Sure, it would drive everyone around him crazy, but at least he would be able to follow a conversation.

"O-okay", he said, aware of how young he sounded. It felt like a déjà-vu. For a moment he felt like the little boy his parents had left at Ben and May's place again. Before they disappeared forever. What had he told his mother when she kissed him goodbye? He could not remember. "But, what if-"

"Tony!"

Tony slowly turned his head towards the person on the staircase, his expression as neutral as he could manage. Peter wondered when they would stop with their forced politeness. Even them shouting at each other had been better than this.

"Rogers", Tony said, his voice void of emotions. Peter could have slapped them both and judging from the look on the Black Widow's face, he was not the only one who felt that way.

He watched Steve Rogers walk towards the doors, his eyes still on Tony and him as if he wanted to make sure their conversation was over.

"Where's the rest of the team?", he asked Sam, who only nodded towards the landing platform. Peter could make out a few black figures. One of them seemed to be hovering. Vision.

"Okay", Steve said with his best Captain-America-voice. "We should leave. It's getting late."

Sam nodded and left the room immediately, followed by Natasha whose footsteps did not even make sounds in the hall. She was dressed in her usual combat dress, her short blond hair the only contrast to the black and grey attire. For a moment it looked like Steve wanted to wait for Tony to follow them, but eventually turned around and went outside without another word.

Tony sighed. "He's still not over the fact that I recruited a fourteen-year-old. Give him another few decades. He'll get over it."

"I was fifteen."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You stay here. We'll be back soon. I don't think it will take us long."

Peter watched him leaving for the jet and suddenly had a bad feeling about all this. It was not like the times he could feel when he was about to be attacked or about to be hit by a bullet. No tingling sensation in the back of his head, no goosebumps, no immediate danger. Peter could not really put his finger on it. He watched the jet start, watched it disappear and somehow expected the bad feeling to disappear with it, but was disappointed. He stood there for another twenty minutes, with bare feet and the strange feeling in his chest. The silence was enfolding him mercilessly, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"They are Avengers", he told himself, his voice cutting through the silence, creating a soft echo in the hall. "They know what they are doing. They have done these things a hundred times. They are _Avengers_!"

He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. He was overreacting, he decided. They were adults. A group of spies and soldiers and fighters, equipped with the best weapons and technology money could buy. And he was just a kid with no experience, standing in an empty hall wearing pyjama pants with little sailing boats and flags on them and worrying about grown men and a grown woman who had fought more battles in their lives than he could count.

"This is so stupid", Peter said. Minutes later he found himself back in his room, dressed in black pants and a grey hoodie that was a bit too large for him. He checked if he was still wearing the wristband Tony had given him, although he never really took it off.

Initially, he had thought about wearing his Spider-Man suit, bud had quickly decided against it. The bright red and blue colour would be a disadvantage if he had to hide somewhere, so he only grabbed his Spider-Man mask and his web-shooters as well as a black face mask he had snitched from the common area a few weeks earlier because he had liked the design so much. He could wear it around his neck until he needed it to cover half his face. Maybe it had been Hawkeye's.

He caught his reflection in one of the windows on his way outside and nearly laughed. He looked like a kid wearing a very cheap DIY spy costume for Halloween. It was good that no one else was around. Tony would have laughed his ass off if he'd seen him like that. Maybe he could ask him to design a special suit for occasions like these. A black one. Tonight, however, this had to be enough.

"I'm so stupid", he mumbled again, as if he expected someone to answer him that this plan was not stupid at all, that it was a good thing that he wanted to follow the team. His footsteps created a dull sound that echoed from the walls. He had to learn to walk more quietly in these shoes.

"Okay, here we go", he babbled to himself as he walked towards the glass front, ready for disappearing into the dark and cold night. Only that he did not even reach the door before he was stopped.

"Going anywhere?"

Peter nearly jumped. He turned his head to look at the person standing right behind him, although he had recognised the voice right away.

"Err..", he mumbled as Bucky raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently for his answer. "I wanted to…. go to… the store. To buy… doughnuts. Want some?

He saw Bucky's lips twitch into a smile. "You are dressed like this to buy doughnuts?"

He forgot about the outfit. Damn. Peter knew that he was not a very good liar, a fact that he was told on a regular basis. But that now had been just ridiculous, even by his standards. He should have hurried, should have gotten dressed in the woods outside, should not have wasted so much time in his room talking to himself. Now his tiny little adventure was about to be stopped as soon as it had begun.

"Look", Peter said, turning his body around so he could face Bucky without straining his neck. "I just want to help. Get out of here for a bit. I need that."

Bucky did not move a single muscle. Peter could not even see him taking breaths and wondered how on earth he got enough air into his lungs. Then, a few seconds later, the other man turned around. "You wait here", he commanded, and Peter did not dare to even move an inch. He watched him leave for the elevators and felt his heart sink. He would contact the others. Maybe he _should_ run away. How far could he get until Bucky would find him again? Maybe he could take one of the cars, then he would not have to run. He was not especially got at driving, though.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted by the soft sounds of the elevator.

"Okay, let's go outside", Bucky told him as he walked past Peter, not even waiting for his answer. He was wearing different clothes, Peter noticed. Warm clothes.

Peter followed him quietly, abandoning his plans for the moment. When they opened the door, chilly night air engulfed them. It was almost a full moon, so the meadows and the woods were lit by a calming whitish light. In the city, nights like these were perfect when he had to follow criminals into dark back alleys or industrial buildings.

"Uh… what are we doing?", Peter finally asked, after glancing around the nearly empty compound area. There were no cars or jets in sight. There were only a few people in the one building Peter knew the medical wing was in. After his accident, Tony had told him that he paid the nurses and doctors to stay awake during the night. Considering the horrendous night shifts at hospitals in the city, this job seemed to be okay. At least most of the times. "Why are we outside? Or, better, where are we going?"

"Going for a walk", Bucky simply answered, as if he had just explained all of Peter's questions with those four words. However, the fact that he did not walk towards the big gates only confused Peter more. He sighed as he followed the man around the main building. Bucky never talked much, and he knew better than to ask many questions to which he would only receive short answers to.

They walked in silence until they reached the middle of the meadow.

"How did you know I wanted to leave?", Peter asked him. "Why are you not with the others? Even Dr. Banner went with them, although he has some big experiment going on."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me."

"That traitor", Peter mumbled. He would go and talk to the AI, but then she would probably tell Tony. And that would be his end. Bucky probably was going to tell them anyway, he realised. Shit.

"Uh", he began, looking at his silent comrade. "Could I interest you in keeping this whole situation a secret? I could bring you doughnuts. For real, this time."

Bucky shook his head slightly and Peter's hopes went out the window. "How would you have followed them anyway?", the man asked him, curiosity in his voice.

The question, as simple as it was, caught Peter a bit off guard. He had no idea. He had thought about stealing one of the jets, although he had no idea how to fly them – maybe Tony would show him one day – or one of the many cars that were parked in the compound's garage. It hit Peter that he should have at least tried to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. where the others were headed. But in his hurry, he only had thought about leaving the compound as soon as possible.

"Dunno", Peter mumbled and felt his face redden. "But I would have figured it out on the way. Do you, by any chance, know where they are?"

Bucky snorted, then turned towards him for the first time since they left the building. "This is a stupid plan. They told me you were smart."

"Hey.", Peter protested. "It's just… I had a very bad feeling when they left. I _still_ have a very bad feeling about this."

He realised how utterly stupid that sounded, especially since Bucky probably did not know about his spidey-sense and how he could tell when a situation turned dangerous. Peter groaned internally.

"N-normally, I'm right about this", he mumbled, turning his head away, towards the group of trees on his right. He could not see Bucky's frown and his tensed muscles. "I know it sounds weird."

He got no answer and was ready to drop the matter. They had reached the end of the meadow, which was separated from the rest of the grasslands by a large wall that would have made Donald Trump jealous. He could climb the wall easily, even without his web-shooters. He'd stick his hands and feet to it and climb it like a spider. Bucky, on the other hand, would have more difficulties. But where would he go? He had been left in the dark. Left alone with a handful of nagging doubts.

"Why didn't you go with the others?", he asked, staring at the wall.

"Not cleared for missions", the other man responded, his voice void of emotions. He turned around and began to head back to where they came from.

"Have you been sleeping then?", Peter asked him. "Shit, F.R.I.D.A.Y. did not wake you up, did she?"

Bucky shook his head and Peter had no idea which of the two questions he had answered. He made a mental note to only ask him one question at a time in the future. Tony was used to the number of words he could say in one go. Maybe he had to go easy on the others.

He was about to say something but stopped dead in his tracks. Without a warning, his spidey-sense went haywire. His body tensed up. Spinning around, Peter searched for the immediate danger, but could not see a single thing. He was about to say something to Bucky, who was still walking back and had not noticed that he was not at his side anymore, when something near the trees caught Peter's attention. As thankful as he had been for the bright moonlight, he now would have given everything for a pitch-black night. It did not really matter what they did, if there was somebody watching them, they could see everything that they did.

There was a cracking sound and as soon as he turned his head towards that direction, a bright light blinded him, sending a flood of pain through his head. Peter stumbled backwards. He tumbled over something he was not entirely sure had been there just a moment ago and clumsily landed on his back. His head was throbbing, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of new noises around him and the bright light. The tingling sensation in the back of his head was unbearable now and Peter silently prayed for it to stop. He forced one of his eyes open and groaned when the light made the throbbing pain worse.

"What the-", he managed to say, but was cut off by a sudden pain in his neck. He lifted his arms and felt a needle. Shit.

Suddenly, he could hear footsteps and could even see a few black figures hurry his way before his vision became blurred and he could not tell the difference anymore between tree or enemy. What scared him even more than the fact that there were several people attacking him, was the realisation that their attackers did not care anymore if they were heard or seen or not. They knew that their plan would be successfully carried out.

Breathing was extremely difficult now, forcing him to lie down flat on his back again. His muscles were lax. Peter had no idea what it would feel like to be a marshmallow, but he was sure this now was pretty close. He could not move his arms and legs anymore, could not even roll his head to the side.

"Wir haben ihn", somebody next to Peter said. There were hands grabbing his shoulders. He wanted to fight them off, wanted to slap, kick or punch whoever tried to take him but could not remember how to move his limbs to accomplish that.

A second man said something, but Peter blacked out before he could even finish the sentence.

* * *

"Okay ladies, ready to enter this little shack."

" _Shut up, Stark."_

Tony was glad he was in his suit, hovering a few metres high in the air, and nobody could see him, thus he did not have to hide the enormous grin on his face. He was about to make a snarky comment but was interrupted before he could even inhale.

" _We don't have time for this now. We have to be fast. I can't see any guards, but we can't be sure the building is empty. Tony?",_ Steve said through the comms.

Tony could see his dark uniform from where he was flying. He was hidden behind a large group of trees, so none of the potential enemies could see his red armour. Sam, on the other side of the building, was doing the same. Only now and then there was something silvery visible when Falcon switched trees or flew to another position. Cap and Hawkeye were on the ground, surrounding the building. Hawkeye and Natasha were nowhere in sight, only muttered sentences could be heard through their devices every now and then.

They should not talk too much anyway. Even if the building looked abandoned, it was not small. Potential enemies had multiple floors they could hide on and wait for them to enter the building before they would launch an attack. And a surprise attack was the biggest advantage they had now.

"Can't see anything. Looks abandoned to me", Tony said. He was getting impatient. Hiding outside clearly would not help them.

" _Natasha?"_

There was a short period of silence until Natasha's calm voice sounded through their comms.

" _I'm at the north-eastern entrance. Ready for action."_

" _Alright_ ", Tony heard Steve say. _"Tony, Sam, you two better enter through the windows on the roof. Natasha, Clint and I enter on different sides. Vision and Bruce keep their distance until we need you for support. Okay. Go."_

The silence was interrupted immediately. There were the sounds of breaking windows, cracking cement walls, doors that were kicked in. Tony could hear the whizzing sound of Falcon's armour as he flew directly through the big windows on the roof and landed inside the building. He could hear someone breathing heavily through his comms. Maybe Hawkeye. Somewhere he could make out a shattering noise. He turned his head towards the direction he assumed the source of the noise to be, half expected men in black uniform to come charging through the door but found himself to be surrounded by silence soon again. Falcon was standing a few metres away from him, head narrowed in surprise due to the lack of attackers. If they were not here, Tony assumed, they had to be on the lower floors.

" _Guys_?", Tony heard Bruce's voice pipe up in his right ear. Maybe them being too quiet had made him nervous.

"We're good", Tony told him, throwing a glance towards Falcon, who simply nodded. "Top floor's empty. Like _really_ empty. There's not even furniture here."

" _Lower floors and cellar also empty",_ Hawkeye's voice said. _"Cap?"_

" _Okay, seems like the whole building is abandoned. Nothing here. Could be that it was a false alarm and we made a mistake. Let's get out of here and head back."_

Tony turned around to face the broken window, ready to exit the building and fly back to the jet where Bruce and Vision were waiting for them when Natasha said the seemingly harmless sentence that would soon haunt his nightmares with a burning intensity he had not thought possible.

" _We have a problem."_

They found her on the second floor, her face a neutral mask. Nobody, Tony was sure, could have read what was going on in that brain of hers. Clint, on the other hand, was pissed. And for the second time of the day, Tony was incredibly glad he still wore the Iron Man helmet, his facial expression hidden from the others.

A single word had been written in bright red letters on the cemented floor. Although it clearly was red paint, it looked like blood.

 _Gotcha_.

* * *

 **Thanks for your kind reviews. :) I'm glad you liked the Bucky-Peter interaction, because I was not sure if I'd written him right. But I think I'm getting there.**

 **The story** _ **was**_ **kinda slow at first, therefore I'll try to speed things up a bit now and put Peter through a bit more action. In the last chapter I tried to introduce a villainous character without giving too much away about him – and yessss I know that an evil scientist in a lab coat might be a bit cliché, but my lovely brain did not provide me with a better idea of a villain. I promise he won't be the only evil character in the story.**

 **What do you think will happen next? :P**


	7. Chapter 7

The cold steel of the table they had strapped on made his back hurt like hell. They had taken all his clothes and apparently, someone had dressed him in grey hospital pants. At first, the cold had just made him feel very uncomfortable, the chilly air being only a nuisance he tried to ignore as best as he could. Now it had found its way into his body, crept into his bones, his limbs, his head. Peter thought it highly unlikely that he would feel warm ever again.

He had no idea where he was, knew only that they kept him in the same room - a rather small room, every inch covered in white tiles, completely empty except for the table and something behind Peter's head he could not see. He thought it was some sort of medical machine, as they had neither given him fluids nor food and he was not feeling hungry at all. Also, the people in white kept glancing into that direction when they came in to inject the drugs.

It hurt like hell, every time. As if he was forcibly injected with lava instead of that strange liquid. The first time, Peter had been convinced that his whole body was on fire. It hurt more than everything he had experienced so far. More than broken bones, stab wounds and bruises combined. The pain seemed to last forever, and Peter welcomed the moment he would finally black out, although he knew he could not escape it.

He was slipping in and out of consciousness repeatedly, his vision constantly swimming due to greyish liquid they kept injecting him. Almost every time he woke up, there already were people in white clothes standing next to the table, weird medical instruments in their hands and their faces void of emotions. At first, he had tried to talk to them, but he could not produce more than a groaning sound. They had laughed at that.

There were no sounds in the room apart from his own breathing and the noises the clothes and guns of the uniformed guards made when they shifted from one foot to the other. It drove Peter crazy.

At first, there had just been the same two guys guarding him. A big, unshaved guy, similar to a bear, with his gun always in his hand and a pack of chewing gum in his pocket. At first, Peter had thought he was the boss because he kept giving the other man orders, but soon he found out that Evil Bob was only there to watch him.

The other guy was slightly smaller, but then everybody would appear tiny next to Evil Bob. Peter decided to name him Not-So-Evil Bob because unlike Evil Bob, he would not shout at Peter or kick him when he tried to move his body to a more comfortable position – not that he could move much. Nevertheless, the guy freaked Peter out. He looked completely normal, as if they had taken him from one of those lame offices, had given him a black uniform and a gun and the guy just went with it. He never said a single word and only did what Evil Bob told him to do and Peter wondered if he could even speak.

After some time, they began to change his guards every now and then, as if to mess with his senses. There was a woman with very thin lips, who would look at Peter as if he was a dirty rat when he said something, whom Peter had given the name Lady Die, and another two men Peter had troubles to distinguish, so he just called them Mister X One and Mister X Two in his head. There had been a guy he'd named Handkerchief Dude, but he was shot in the back by Evil Bob because he had made a mistake. He had no idea when that had happened, but it felt like ages ago. Months, if not years or decades.

Two things, however, freaked him out more than everything combined.

There was something written on his left wrist. A-1-018. At first, he thought one of the guys had written a number, a message or a name on there with a permanent marker, but once one of the guys in white had lifted his arm high enough for him to have a good look at his hand and it had hit him. It looked too small and too neat to be written with permanent marker. He didn't even know he could have tattoos because of his enhanced healing. His body had no problems to heal open wounds, scratches or bruises. Once, he had accidentally poked his hand with a pencil, resulting in a small, blue dot under his skin. It had been rather deep and had hurt more than Peter was willing to admit. Not even forty minutes later the dot was gone. So how on earth had they been able to put a tattoo on his wrist without his body removing the ink from under his skin? A-1-018. Was that his number now?

Also, his system seemed to adjust to the drugs and he could not tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He felt stronger with each time they injected the liquid, could stay awake for a longer period of time, even when he had lost track of time completely now. But they had vicious grins and smiles on their faces whenever they visited him, nodded at each other. They looked satisfied.

Satisfied with what, Peter could not tell.

Someday, the hallucinations started. At first, it was only little things that usually did not last very long, like colourful butterflies he spotted in the room or soft piano music playing in the background, but soon enough there were other persons in the room, chatting with him. Peter tried to concentrate on it with all his might. He knew it was not healthy, but it was the only distraction he had, and he let himself be absorbed by it. Most times, he knew right at the beginning that he was hallucinating, that the things he could see, hear or smell were not real. For example, he knew there was no way his kindergarten teacher was there with her guitar, singing a lullaby for him. But other times he had troubles telling imagination and reality apart, and those times he was afraid of his own mind.

The only thing that kept him sane was his hope that the Avengers would come and free him. Tony in his Iron Man armour, Natasha and Clint, both dressed in black, maybe even the Hulk. Peter liked the idea that he was important enough for Bruce not to stay on the jet as the backup plan. They would come. They would help him. Everything would be fine. Easy-peasy.

The door to his room opened again, but it was not the Avengers that came in, but the people in white. Three persons. A man, two women. Neither of them very tall or very strong. Spider-Man could have defeated them easily, even without his web-shooters. Peter Parker, drugged and tied to a table, could not. The man was grinning as he approached the table. Peter wanted to punch him in the face.

"Und? Wie sieht's aus?", he asked.

"Gut. Schätzungsweise nur noch ein Tag. Maximal zwei. Dann ist die Prozedur abgeschlossen."

The man started laughing at that, a dark and hollow laugh that was not loud but created a strange echo in the room. And that was when it hit Peter. He recognised the man. The weird scientist he'd seen that day in New York. After the fall. If he would have been able to produce sounds, he would have screamed at him. But the only thing he managed to do was to inhale sharply.

"Ausgezeichnet", the man mumbled and grinned again. It made Peter sick.

He saw one of the women holding a recording device, heard her speaking. "Eintrag Achtundzwanzig-C. Wir nähern uns dem Ende von Phase 1. Subjekt fast bereit für nächste Phase. Melde keine Probleme."

He did not understand a single word, but there was something in her voice Peter feared was triumph. They felt victorious.

" _They never did that. They want you to hear it. To irritate you. Mind games_ ", Peter thought. He closed his eyes when he saw one of them approaching him with a needle again. " _It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it may hurt but it's okay_ …"

Pain flooded his body immediately. It crushed his lungs, burned his blood, made his head explode. He wanted to close his eyes, but his eyelids did not obey him anymore. He was forced to look up at the ceiling and wait until he would fall into the darkness again, which would save him from the pain.

But today, this liberating moment never came. Every single cell in his body was on fire and for the first time he would stay awake. It felt like his heart was crushed by a hydraulic press. Peter could hear his strangled breath and wondered if Not-So-Evil Bob could hear it too. His vision was blinded by tears, his hearts ringing. He wished one of the guards would finally shoot him.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain very slowly ebbed away. He felt horrible. As if he had died and death itself had decided to bring him back again to suffer. He had troubles breathing. One part of him was curious how many times he had to undergo that procedure until he would stop breathing for good.

When Not-So-Evil Bob left the room, it finally hit him. Who was he kidding? He would be here forever. Nobody knew where he was, they certainly would not know where to look for him. Hell, he could be anywhere. Not even Peter knew for sure what had happened when they took him. The memories were blurry and every time he tried to remember, his head ached terribly.

Evil Bob came in, together with Aunt May. She, too, was wearing one of their black uniforms, but she was not carrying a gun. May despised guns, especially after Uncle Ben's death.

"Are you feeling okay, Peter?", she asked him with a voice sweet as honey, but awfully empty eyes. Was she trying to mock him? No, not May. Never May. She loved him. He tried no shake his head to answer her question but could do nothing more than to stare at her standing next to Evil Bob. She looked so tiny. "I'll phone your school and let them know you're staying home today."

He wanted to nod. It seemed like the right decision. He liked school, but he certainly did not feel alright. Ned would understand. Maybe he could call him later – that was if they allowed him to make a phone call. He knew that everybody was allowed one phone call when arrested, and he had not called anybody yet. Ned seemed like a good choice. Maybe Ned could call Tony and May. His head hurt terribly.

He blinked. May was gone and Peter was alone again with Evil Bob and Mister X Two. He wanted her to come back. But then again, she would see him in great pain when the people in white came back and she probably would start crying – and he could not bear the thought of her crying. So maybe it was a good thing that he was here alone.

The lights went out with a strange sound, the dark engulfing them immediately. Peter heard Evil Bob curse under his breath, heard Mister X Two open the door and yell something into his communication device. He sounded worried.

Then there was a period of silence long enough for Peter to come to the conclusion that he was hallucinating again. Maybe it was dark because he had finally managed to close his eyes. He could never be sure nowadays. Maybe he could catch some sleep, now that the light was gone. He was exhausted.

"Was ist los?", a voice suddenly said. The man sounded worried, slightly angry too.

"Keine Ahnung", a second person said. He, too, sounded pissed. "Jemand soll bei ihm bleiben."

Were they two of the people in white? Peter could not remember their voices, but then none of them usually talked much when they went to visit him. He heard people yelling in a language Peter decided was German, but he could not understand a thing. They must have left the door to his room open, he thought, when he heard somebody shout something from farther away.

"Durchsucht das Gebäude!"

He panicked when they started shooting right outside his room. The sound echoed from the walls, a strange hollow sound that hurt Peter's ears. He was afraid of stray bullets before the thought hit his blurry mind that there could be somebody who wanted to shoot him on purpose. Assassins. Enemies of his enemies.

He was as good as dead.

Peter tried to move his arms as much as he could but soon gave up. The drugs made it impossible for him to control his limbs. His entire body felt like jelly. Spider-Man-coloured jelly. Red and blue. The thought nearly made him giggle.

There was a dull sound next to the door as if somebody just had been kicked against a concrete wall. Somebody screamed in the distance, a sound that sent shivers down Peter's back. Somebody was in great pain. Peter tried to lift his head but failed miserably. The screaming ebbed away. Then, suddenly, the shooting noises ceased as well and the world around Peter was quiet again. His own breathing was the loudest sound now. Too loud. They would hear him.

He tried to hold his breath, but soon his lungs were screaming for air and he had to give up his attempts to stay quiet. The sound of him gasping for air must have been loud enough for somebody to hear because the next thing Peter noticed was the sound of footsteps. Somebody was coming for him. Great, Parker. Good job.

The person was fast, but cautious, standing in the middle of the room for a few seconds before approaching Peter. Then, all of a sudden, there were hands on his chest. If Peter would have had enough air in his lungs, he would have screamed. In this state, however, he only managed to press his body to the table and croak a pathetic "No!".

"Calm down and shut up!", a rough voice said. There were hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly. Peter tried to push them off, then remembered his hands and feet were still strapped to the table. Shit. He could not even fight back. They would find him like this, dressed in weird pyjama pants, tied to a table, a bullet in his head. What a great superhero he was.

The guy cursed and removed his hands. Peter nearly sighed in relief but was silenced by a light blinding his eyes. A flashlight. What kind of villain carried a flashlight. What was he about to do? Blind him to death?

"What the…", he managed to croak, blinking rapidly. The other seemed to take the hint and aimed the flashlight at Peter's torso instead, eying him nervously. Peter could have cried in relief when he recognised him.

"You're not Evil Bob", Peter whispered, still out of breath. He could feel his heart pounding painfully against his chest. He must look like a child waking up from a nightmare.

Bucky's worried expression worsened. He scanned him from head to toe, as if he was looking for something specific, then ripped the iron straps that pinned Peter down off the table with his metal arm. The sound hurt his ears more than it should have.

"We have to go", he said, gripping Peter's shoulders once more, helping him to a sitting position. "Now."

Peter nodded dumbstruck. He let Bucky pull him to his feet and watched the man frown when his legs began to shake the second they had to support his weight. He gripped one of Peter's arms and put it over his shoulder, dragging him towards the door. "We have to be fast. I don't know how many of them are still here."

Peter nodded again. He felt like a rag doll. His vision was still adjusting and the world around him was spinning too much. There was too much grey – grey walls, grey floor. The only other colour was the red of the blood that stained the floor every now and then. Peter felt like he might throw up.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to be completely unfazed as they walked through several corridors that all looked the same to Peter. The only sound was Peter's ragged breathing, a contrast to the world around them. He was sure they could hear him and tried to breath more quietly, which only resulted in him coughing violently. Bucky stopped abruptly and waited patiently for the coughing fit to end before he continued to drag Peter through the maze of corridors.

"Where are we?", he dared to ask when they reached a door that looked like it could lead them outside, but only earned a glare in response. Right. He should keep his mouth shut.

When Bucky pushed the door open a few moments later, Peter could have cried in relief. The cold air hit him before he could even throw a glance outside. Snow, trees and sky. Nothing else. He had no idea where they were, but right now it did not really matter to him. Bucky seemed to think the same because he did not stop or turn around to see if somebody followed them. He kept on dragging Peter through the snow, right into the woods. Peter had no idea if he knew where they had to go, but he would not waste precious breath to ask him.

They ran – or rather hurried as fast as Peter's condition allowed – for several minutes before Peter's feet gave up. He felt nauseous. His vision was still off and the world around him was spinning madly. One more step and he would riot.

"I'm not… not feeling well", he managed to say – a plea.

Bucky said nothing. He let him sink to the snow-covered ground carefully as if he was an egg with an already cracked shell. Peter inhaled and exhaled slowly so that he would not start coughing again. That would be humiliating.

"Where have you… how long have I been…what…", he began, unable to finish his questions. Thinking hurt his head. But then, everything hurt his head, including the painfully white snow.

"Days. Maybe over a week. I don't know how long I was out", Bucky responded. He was silent for a bit and added, almost apologetically, "Took me a bit to find the right building."

"T-the right building? Were you not in there too?"

He pointed vaguely into the direction they had come from, although he was sure that they had taken a few turns. He had not paid much attention to where Bucky had wanted them to go.

"No. I've found some sort of map in one of the rooms where I woke up. There seem to be at least six buildings used as HYDRA bases, science labs, prisons…", Bucky told him and trailed off. He looked around and took a few steps towards a group of trees, then stopped abruptly. For a moment Peter was afraid that he'd leave him there.

"Why did they take us to two different ones? I mean that's not a logistically wise decision, is it?", Peter asked. He had to wait a few seconds for an answer this time.

"They were… primarily interested in you", the other man mumbled, not looking at him. "I was just in the way this time. At least they did not do anything."

This was no coincidence, Peter realised. It had been carefully planned. They knew that he would be there at the compound. Bucky, on the other hand, had apparently been a surprise. A bonus. They had not had enough time to decide how to proceed with him.

"Well… I'm sorry, then. But… apparently… I've replaced you as subject number one… and-", Peter tried to joke, but was interrupted by a coughing fit. When he was finally able to breathe again, Bucky was staring at him. He averted his eyes.

"Where are we?", he asked to distract him. The woods looked like they could be anywhere. There were more mountains in the distance, but Peter's vision was not good enough yet.

"I think somewhere in the European Alps. But I'm not sure."

Europe? He had left the country only one time and that was when Tony had asked him to come to Germany with him. And that was it. He'd not even been to Canada. And now he was on a different continent again. He had a feeling that this time he would not fly back home in a comfy private jet.

"So… what shall we do now?", he asked. He hated the rough sound of his voice. It made him sound weaker than he already felt.

"We have to contact the others. Somehow", Bucky answered.

"Kay. I agree…. Good plan."

Peter glanced at his wrists. The wristband was gone. Shit. Tony would be mad. He could not even keep the damn thing a whole month, did not even had the chance to use it. He looked around. The chances that there was a phone booth hidden somewhere in the woods were not very high. "How?"

"We'll have to find the next village", Bucky told him. Suddenly, he turned around and walked straight up to him. Peter had no chance to ask him what he was doing when he grabbed his arm, pulled him up, turned around again and bent down a bit. Peter needed a few seconds before he understood. God, and he thought a coughing fit would be humiliating.

"No", he just said, "I can walk."

"You're way too slow", the other man said. "Come on, or I'll leave you here."

Peter was ninety percent sure that Bucky wouldn't do such a thing, but he was afraid that he might just throw him over his shoulder if he refused, and that would certainly make him throw up. Reconsidering his situation, the prospect of the Winter Soldier giving him a piggy-back ride did not seem that bad after all.

"We can never tell that anybody", he said as they marched through the snow. He felt dizzy and had to close his eyes. "Not Ned… not Happy… and certainly not Tony."

* * *

 **So, this is it. Peter managed to get away, but don't worry, that won't be the end of his struggles. I have so much more planned for him – and not everything is nice.**

 **You guys are awesome! Thank you all for the kind reviews!**

 **FanGirlForever19** **: Yep, you're right. Sorry if that part was a bit confusing (and sorry if there are more parts that are confusing** **)**

 **Vivienne: Thank you so much for your review! It really means a lot to me. And don't worry about any mistakes – your English is fine :)**

 **I'll be a bit busy in the next few weeks, so I don't know if I manage to upload anytime soon – I'm very sorry! But I promise that the next chapter will be longer than this one. Ideas and recommendations for future chapters always welcome ;)**


End file.
